


Widow's Peak

by Sinistretoile



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Accidents, Attempted Murder, Attraction, Ballroom Dancing, Bathtub Sex, Bisexual Female Character, Biting, Bloodletting, Blow Jobs, Boat Sex, Boats and Ships, Breastfeeding, Brother/Sister Incest, Caught, Character Death, Childbirth, Confessions, Crimson Peak, Cunnilingus, Death, Deception, Doggy Style, Drama & Romance, Drowning, Drugging, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Reunions, Female Relationships, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Ghosts, Girls Kissing, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Haunting, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Incest, Impropriety, Incest, Injury, Lesbian Sex, Major Character Injury, Marriage Consumation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Miscarriage, More Confessions, Multi, Near Death, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Outdoor Sex, Persuasion - Freeform, Piano Sex, Postnatal sex, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Private Investigators, Reluctant Lucille, Revelations, Romance, Rough Sex, Secrets, Seduction, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Surprise Sex, Their first time again, Threesome - F/F/M, Tipping the Velvet - Freeform, Train Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Woman on Top, accidental injury, crimson peak au, missing child, more nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 63,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Olivia Hampstead is intrigued by Sir Thomas Sharpe and vice versa. She's not like the other aristocratic women of London. And he's not the only one that's noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you have not seen the movie, this piece contains referenced spoilers.

The brilliant sunny sky of the countryside gave way to the dull gray of the city. Between the natural clouds and the city’s industrial progress, the gray choked out the sun. Olivia sighed and pulled herself from her thoughts as the baby began to fuss. She rocked its bassinet gently and hushed the baby softly until it fell back to sleep. Before her attention could wander off again, the carriage stopped.  
The foot man opened the door and a valet took the bassinet. A second valet offered her his hand. She took it and looked up into the dismal sky. As her attention came down, she met the crystalline eyes of a man dressed all in black and a lovely, stout top hat. She recognized a sadness in his eyes, one that mirrored her own. She gave a slight nod. He paused then turned down his intended walk, which happened to be the one she stood at.  
Olivia dropped her eyes as she walked behind him. He had a swagger to his walk. The gentleman was cock sure and ready to take on the world. She found herself smiling. So distracted was she by his walk that she hadn’t realized that he’d stopped. She practically bowled him over as she tried to stop.  
“Oh forgive me.”  
“It’s quite alright, miss.” He released the elbow he’d caught and she righted herself.  
“Olivia!” She turned abruptly at the sound of her aunt. “I thought you’d sent young Michael on his own.”  
“Please, Aunt Marian, he’s barely a year. He’s still at the breast.” She pulled her gloves from her hands then at once regretted it. She glanced up at the gentleman to find his eyes on her. “Can I help you?”  
“Are you alright, miss? Your hands.” He took one gently in his hand. His thumb passed over the scabs and dark pink scrapes on her knuckles, the side and her fingertips. She flinched but didn't pull away.  
“I’m fine.” She met his eyes, let him see the depth of her sorrow and guilt for an instant then looked away as she slowly and carefully pulled her hand from his.  
Olivia’s aunt swept down the stairs and hugged her almost obscenely. “I see you’ve met, Sir Sharpe.”  
“I wouldn’t say met.”  
“Oh please then allow me to introduce you. Sir Thomas Sharpe, this is my niece Lady Olivia Hampstead.”  
“Oh please, Aunt Marian, I’m no lady.”  
“I wouldn’t admit that around a gentleman, darling.” The pair tittered. Thomas looked uncomfortable but slightly intrigued. “Thomas, would you join us for afternoon tea? I’m afraid Silas isn’t back from the office yet.”  
“Aunt Marian, it’s been a long trip. I’d prefer to nap before Michael needs to eat again.”  
“Nonsense, you wouldn’t want to be rude to our guest, would you?”  
Olivia ground her jaw. “Aunt Marian, I am your guest as well.”  
The older woman laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re family.” She looked up at Thomas who smiled.  
“Very well. Allow me to freshen up from the journey.”  
A handful of moments later, she was sat next to Thomas, balancing a tea cup on her knee. “You see the trick is balance.” She carefully lifted her lower leg and the tea cup remained still. With gleeful giggle, she swept up the cup and placed it on the toe her exposed slipper. The door opened loudly, startling her. Thomas caught the cup as it teetered before it spilled hot tea on her ankle.  
“Sharpe, my good man! I see you’ve met my niece. Livi, kindly act appropriately.”  
“I’m a widow, Uncle Silas. I don’t have to.” She winked at Thomas who raised an eyebrow.  
“You’ll forgive my Livi. She’s mourning my nephew.”  
“Of course." This intrigued him even more. He'd have to tell Lucille. "If you don’t mind my being so bold, where are your widow’s weeds? And you are not dressed in black.”  
“That is quite bold of you.” Thomas instantly regretted it. "My late husband warrants only the black ribbon at my breast." She hopped up. “Come here and I’ll show you where my weeds are.” She grabbed his hand as he stood and led him to the window. “There.” She pointed but didn’t release him. He looked in the direction of her finger.  
“I don’t see anything.”  
“See that tuft of grass just there by the carriage wheel?” She sidled in front of him.  
` He squinted. “I see no grass, Lady Hampstead.”  
She leaned closer to the glass and beckoned him. “See, just there?” He leaned in, pressing his body to hers. Their shared breath fogged up the glass.  
He turned to her and met her sad gaze. “I see nothing, Olivia.” She looked from his eyes to his mouth then back, he mirrored this action.  
“I fed them to the horses before we came to the city.” She looked away as tear fell down her cheek. “Forgive me. I need to see to Michael.” Olivia hastily wiped away the tear and excused herself from the room. Their fingers lingered together as she walked away from him. He dropped his hand, but he could still feel her touch.  
“I’m sorry about that, Thomas. Please sit down.”  
“It’s quite alright.” He sat back in the chair but some of the warmth of the afternoon had left with her presence. “Will she be alright?”  
“Olivia will be fine. She’s a young widow with a young child and her husband’s estate.”  
“Might I ask how he died?”  
“He fell.” Marian sipped her tea. She missed the shadow that passed over his face as he looked in the direction she’d left.

Silas stood in the garden, holding Olivia’s trembling form. She buried her face in his shirt, her hands fisted in the material. “Please, uncle. Please, I beg of you. Don’t make me do this.”  
“You must. You will. You need a husband and Michael needs a father.” She stepped away from him but still stood in the shadows.  
“I married without love and look where it got me.”  
“Oh, dear child, love comes with time. You will love him.” She looked down at the ground, at her trembling scuffed hands. “And if it doesn’t then there’s always the solution that’s worked in the past.”  
Tears raced down her cheek. “Those were accidents!”  
“Were they?” Silas grabbed her elbows and shook her violently. “Were they!" He practically hissed in her face. She flinched and cowered from his vehemence. "You’re a rich widow with an infant son. Bachelors are practically salivating to get at your money pot and your honey pot.” He roughly smoothed the hair back from her face. “Did you see the way Sharpe looked at you?”  
“I can’t. I won’t. I'm begging you, uncle. Please don’t make me do this.”  
“You can and you will. Or I’ll see you hang and Michael will never know you existed.” He flung her away. She stumbled in the grass then fell to her knees. The disdainful click of his shoes accompanied the sound of her tears. She curled in on herself in the grass and cried. A scuffing at the fence drew her attention. She sat up and wiped her face on her sleeve like a child, looking in the direction of the sound.  
“Olivia? Are you alright?”  
The moonlight illuminated his pale face under the top hat. “Thomas, please, just go.”  
The gate creaked open and the rapid click of his shoes became the squelch of wet grass and earth. He filled her vision. “Are you hurt?”  
“I’m fine. Please, just go.”  
“At least allow me to help you into the house.” He offered her his arm and she reluctantly took it. She couldn’t look at him.  
“How much did you hear?”  
“Enough.”  
Her steps slowed. She focused on the mud smudge on her nightgown. “How much is enough?”  
“Enough to know that perhaps I was too open with my attraction for you the other day.”  
“Please don’t say anything. Silas would be so angry with me if he knew.” She buried her face in his shirt. His presence comforted her, but she couldn't look him in the face.  
“Why?” He tipped her chin up. Her bottom lip trembled and he ached to kiss it. To suck it between his lips and teeth. Her whole body began to tremble. Perhaps she felt the same way. Her gaze dropped to his lips.  
“He wants to marry me off. But I’d much rather stay a widow than become a wife once more.”  
“Such a lonely proposition.” He laid his palm flat against her back. "Especially for one as lovely as you, Olivia."  
“I’d rather be lonely than mistreated, Thomas.” She looked up at him with a sadness he knew all too well. “You should go.”  
“I should.” But he didn't. He held her in his arms in the shadows of the garden. She let him be the balm for her heart and soul for the moment. If only Nathaniel had remained this tender. Once they were married, his charm fell away to reveal his cruelty and sadism.

Lucille sat at the dressing table, brushing out her long hair. She stared at her reflection, ignoring her brother's while he spoke. His stroll had taken longer than she had expected but had brought with it good tidings. She set the brush down next to the comb. “We can rescue her from a horrible arranged marriage. We will be her saviors. When do I meet her?”  
Thomas shrugged out of his suspenders. “I don’t know, Lucille. I’m concentrating on raising the capital on my engineering ability. Not acquiring a wife again.”  
“I know, darling. But should you fall short again...” He inwardly flinched at the proposition of another failure. The excavator was his greatest invention yet and would restore the family name and reputation. It was almost complete. He just needed more time and more money. His hopeless yet hopeful expression stared back at him in the darkened glass of the window. She closed the curtains with a snap. He shed his trousers and climbed into bed. Lucille joined him, her hand slipping beneath the covers. “You will do what must be done.”


	2. Chapter 2

Marian and Silas were banking on the opportunity of using their annual vernal equinox ball to present their widowed niece to the eligible suitors of London. The house bustled with comings and goings as the servants prepared the ballroom for the party.  
Olivia held onto the mantle as the maid pulled the corset ribbons tight. Her body jerked with each pull but she held on. “Sorry, miss.”  
“It’s alright, Annie. That is enough. I hate the whistle in my breath. My tits are already in my throat.” The maid blushed. “After the party, can you have a hot bath and a warm brandy ready for me?”  
“What about young Michael?”  
“That’s what we have a wet nurse for, Annie. And if nothing else, he’ll be a docile little lamb for a day.” What was one more brandy to the sherry she'd been drinking since breakfast?  
“Yes, miss.”  
Olivia finished said sherry, admiring the flush in her cheeks and the swell of her breasts. She leaned over the vanity and applied the lip stain to her bottom lip. A knock interrupted her. “Come in!”  
“There’s a Sir Sharpe here to see you, Lady.” The maid finished tying the ribbons.  
“Send him in.”  
“Miss?”  
“Oh for Christ sake, why is everyone making me repeat myself!” She slung one of the rouge pots across the room. It shattered against the wall. The startled maid ran off.  
“Matilda only wished to observe propriety, miss.”  
Olivia poured another sherry. She’d drunk nearly half the decanter. It warmed her flesh, but the spirit couldn’t warm her soul. She looked at herself in the mirror. Satin and lace, ribbons and jewels couldn't take the darkness from her. She took a drink as she watched herself. “I’m painted up like whore, being sold to the highest bidder, Annie. I might as well receive gentlemen in my chambers like one.” Her gaze shifted from her own sorrowed expression to Thomas standing in her doorway. “Bloody hell, man, do you even make a sound?”  
He smirked at the unladylike language. In fact, most of what he'd observed of Lady Hampstead had been unladylike, rebellious. It compounded his already substantial interest in her. “Forgive me, Lady. I didn’t want to be inappropriate.”  
“So instead you stand at the door and listen to my private conversation.”  
“Again, forgive me.” Olivia pulled on a robe, covering the corset and the garter and stockings. She didn’t miss the parting of his lips nor the hitch in his breath. “I wanted to see you before the party.”  
She dramatically sat down in the chair, crossing her legs like her uncle did. The lower half of the robe fell open, revealing the expanse of her creamy thigh and the curve of her ass. “Whatever for?”  
“My sister, Lucille. She would be honored if you’d receive her.”  
“Sister?”  
“Yes, Olivia. I’d be grateful if you’d allow her to attend. She could even come in my stead.”  
“No!” Thomas flinched. Olivia sat up. Of all the possible wolves of the slaughter, Sharpe was the most appealing to her. “I mean no, she may not come in your stead, but yes, she may come.” Thomas crossed the room and knelt at the chair. He rested his large hand on her thigh just above her knee. His fingers brushed her inner thigh.  
Thomas took her hand. “Olivia, I must tell you. These last few weeks I’ve felt a great jealousy for the men you’ve been receiving.”  
“Jealousy, it’s unbecoming in a woman and weakness in a man.” Olivia looked away. “You must think awful things of me.” She pulled her hand from his and brushed his from her thigh.  
“On the contrary.” He reached up and turned her face back to his. “I feel a kinship to you.” She reluctantly met his gaze. “I have a need to comfort you. I see a sadness in you that echoes my own.”  
She scoffed. “A handsome, inventive baronet like yourself? What have you to be sad about? What sorrow plagues your industrious heart?”  
“Livi, are you ready? We need to get to the seam-“ Aunt Marian stopped dead in the doorway. “Would someone kindly tell me the meaning of this?” She popped up as Thomas swept himself up to his full height.  
“Aunt Marian, Sir Thomas requested his sister Lucille’s presence at the party tonight.”  
“So you thought it prudent to receive him in your quarters in your underwear?” Her aunt’s grip tightened around the gloves in her hand.  
“Silas is auctioning me off like a prize might as well show the gentleman what he could get.” Marian stalked across the room and slapped her with the closed fist. Olivia cried out and fell to her knees.  
Thomas dropped to a crouch. His eyes searched hers and found pain, humiliation, regret. “Are you alright, darling?” Her tongue touched the split lip as his thumb did. He swallowed. He yearned to smear that bit of blood across her cheek, to taste it on her tongue. These thoughts and desires troubled him but intrigued him so much more. “Was that necessary?”  
“You dare to question me in my own home?”  
“Forgive me, madam. I’ll see myself out. Olivia, I’ll see you at the party.” He felt her trembling in his hand. The need to comfort her swelled, but he had to leave. He slowly drew his hand away from her as he stood then excused himself.  
Marian took his place next to her. “You’d have gotten worse if your uncle heard you speak like that." She reached for her niece who turned away. She dropped her hands. "Or if he found out about Thomas being in here in your state of undress.”  
“Oh please, Aunt Marian, don’t lie to yourself. He would only be angry that I’d given Thomas a free show.”  
“Livi, your uncle loves you. He wants to see you happy.”  
Olivia laughed but the laughter became tears. Marian left her niece to her display of emotion, uncomfortable with the raw feelings the child felt. The sooner she had a husband, the better.

The party was in full swing when Thomas and Lucille arrived. To them, there were several young ladies seemingly on display, not just Olivia. Though she was the crown jewel. Thomas hovered at the edge of the party, watching Olivia. He could tell she was drunk, her joyous laughter held an air of hysteria to it. By the candlelight, she reminded him of Lucille. Not physically but the air about her. It vibrated with energy, with passion and a touch of madness.  
A maid brought a child in. Olivia held her arms out to take her son. In that moment, he saw the fog of alcohol leave her face. The veil of sadness and the touch of madness lifted and she looked on her son with pure joy and love. She hugged him to her breast and covered him in kisses until he giggled and kicked his feet. Thomas’s chest swelled. He couldn’t put the emotions in his heart into words if he’d tried.  
The maid took the child and Olivia’s mask settled back into place. Their eyes met. Could she see the darkness in him? Was it calling to her like hers called to him? Thomas felt a touch at his shoulder. “Introduce me, brother.”  
He broke eye contact and looked to Lucille, laying his hand over hers on his forearm. “Yes, Lucille.”  
The crowd parted as the siblings made their presence known. “Lady Hampstead, may I present my sister, Lady Lucille Sharpe.” The women touched hands.  
“A pleasure, Lucille, please have seat.”  
“I don’t want to impose.”  
“Nonsense, Leonard, give the lady your seat and go get us a sherry.”  
“But of course, Olivia.” He stood and allowed Lucille to sit next to her then disappeared into the crowd.  
“My brother has told me a great deal about you.”  
“Oh my, and you still wanted to be seen with me?” Lucille laughed and glanced to Thomas. “Are you married, Lucille?”  
“I don’t-“  
“Don’t let anyone know you’re not. They’ll try to marry you off.”  
Thomas knelt at Olivia’s chair. “Are you feeling alright, Olivia?”  
“I believe she’s had too much to drink. Perhaps we can convince her aunt and uncle to let her retire for the night.”  
Olivia laughed and it was an ugly sound that drew the attention of those close by. “Lucille, would you play her song? It always soothes me in my sadness.” Thomas had taken her hand and rubbed his thumb back and forth on the back of it.  
“Of course, Thomas.”  
Lucille rose and made her way to the piano, glancing over her shoulder at the pair. “Would you care to dance, Lady Hampstead?”  
“I’d rather not.”  
He squeezed her hand and forced her to look at him. “I’d be honored if you’d join me in a waltz.”  
Olivia looked at the suitors that hovered around her and the other girls. Leonard returned with the two glasses of sherry. She swallowed and met Thomas’s gaze. His charm and grace reminded her so much of Arthur. He wore a mask as surely as both her late husbands had and she did now. What did that mask hide? She’s seen glimpses of sadness, pain, guilt.  
“Very well, but I should warn you, Arthur didn’t marry me for my grace.”  
“I am not Arthur.”  
The pair assumed the center of the dance floor. As the music started, they began to twirl, swiftly and steadily. Others familiar with the waltz joined in. They could hear and feel the other dancers around them, but they only had eyes for each other.


	3. Chapter 3

The candlelight seemed very bright by the end of their dance. The flames made tracers in her eyes. Her heart beat raced and her chest ached. She felt dizzy and light-headed. Olivia practically hung on Thomas’s arm as they move off the dance floor.  
“Thomas, I need to sit down.”  
“Of course, darling.”  
“I need air.”  
“Shall I take you to the courtyard?”  
“Yes…”  
Marian watched the pair leave out the side door. This was as good a match as any. A baronet with title, land and a sprawling mansion befitting her niece. So long as he didn’t become cruel. Marian had been witness to that twice before. She’d seen the fruits of it twice before. She feared a third time might create scandal.  
Silas startled his wife with his appearance at her elbow. “I think Sharpe has taken an interest in Olivia.”  
“Yes, my husband, but is this wise? We know nothing of him.”  
“Once she’s married off, she’s no longer our problem.”  
“She’ll always be mine.”  
“I won’t have a scandal attached my name or yours. Once she’s married this time, I don’t want her back under this roof, niece or not.”  
“Only because you're perverted lech. I know you lust for her. And that’s why you hate her.”  
“I don’t hate her, Marian. I just can’t have her, so what use is she to me?” He took a drink of his whiskey and looked out over the guests, ignoring his wife's stillness.  
Marian looked down at her trembling hands. “Dear husband, were she not my niece would you have her?”  
“You don’t want me to answer that question.” He turned away from his wife and into the throng of guests.

The moonlight shone down in her wet eyes. Her tears and her pupils reflected the light into a myriad of stars. The draw he felt to her wound tighter.  
“Does Sir Sharpe win the prize?”  
“If you are the prize, I should be so lucky.”  
“Why do you want a sad, broken woman, Thomas?” She pushed him away and stumbled to the grass. She sat much like he’d found her the night he’d eavesdropped on her conversation with her uncle. “Are you sad and broken as well? Do you harbor guilt and darkness behind a pretty mask?” He crouched next to her. The pain and vulnerability in her face plucked at him. He opened his mouth to lay bare his darkness and see if she would still have him.  
“Everything alright?”  
He closed it with an audible click, glancing over his shoulder at the pair of women in the doorway. “Yes, Lucille, Marian. She needed air.” He helped her to her feet. Her pulse fluttered in her throat like a caged hummingbird. He bent and pressed his lips to it, sinking his teeth into her flesh. She moaned softly and tilted her head for him. He breathed in the scent of her skin then kissed and bit her again. He skimmed his palm over the swell of her breasts then down the outer corset of the dress. She dug her nails into his waist.  
“Do you need help?”  
“No, show me to her room.” He swept her up in bridal carry. Her head fell against his shoulder, hiding the bite marks. “I think between the sherry and the corsets and the heat of the room, she overheated. She needs to lie down.”  
The maid who’d scurried from the room that afternoon opened the double doors to Olivia’s bed chambers. He laid her on the duvet and the maid began to undress her. He stepped back to the doorway, intending to leave.  
“Thomas!”  
He paused, swallowing as he looked at her. “I’m here, Olivia.”  
“Please, please don’t go.”  
“I shouldn’t-“  
“She’s becoming feverish, sir. I need to run a bath.” The maid began to panic.  
“You go run her bath. I’ll stay here with her. Send someone to help her with her clothes.” Thomas crossed swiftly to the side of the bed and took her hand. “I’m here, Livi.” He felt her forehead, gliding the backs of his fingers down her cheek to her throat, and frowned. Feverish nothing, she was practically on fire. “Hang it all.” He snatched the letter opener from her writing desk. Thomas placed the sharp edge of the letter opener against the ribbons and sliced up her breast bone. He tossed the letter opener on the floor and grabbed both sides of the corset and pulled. Fabric ripped. He growled in frustration at the second corset underneath.  
That’s when he saw the blood. Thomas seized the edge of her skirts and ripped the fragile fabric. Blood streaked the skirts between her legs. He ran to the door. “Doctor! Is there the doctor downstairs!” The maid came running to the room. Her scream at the sight of the blood summoned others.  
A crowd began to form, but Silas bullied his way to the door. “What is the meaning of this!” He took in the scene very quickly. Thomas in his niece’s chambers, the blood on the bed, the letter opener on the floor.  
“Silas, for the love of God, get a doctor!”  
The bear of a man shoved Thomas away. “Did you do this!”  
Thomas tried to maneuver around him. “No! She NEEDS a doctor!”  
Thankfully, one happened to be in attendance at the party. He shooed everyone out and summoned his assistant. The constable stood near Thomas. Lucille hovered at his elbow, looking from her brother to the door. The whites of her eyes shined but her face remained a calm mask. Silas paced the parlor, glaring daggers at Sharpe. Marian twisted her hands, casting furtive glances at everyone in the room and the doorway.  
“You want to explain to me what happened?”  
Thomas sighed. “After our dance, Olivia became overheated. I escorted her outside for air. She became upset and I attempted to console her.”  
“You call biting a lady’s neck consoling?” Everyone turned to the scowling doctor in the doorway. Lucille’s head snapped up, her panic rising. This looked very bad for her brother.  
Again, Thomas sighed. “We kissed and it became heated." He offered no more explanation for the biting than that. "She wasn’t cooling down. She needed rest so I carried up to her room. The maid said she felt feverish and wanted to draw her a bath. I tried to leave, but she begged me to stay. The maid became upset that she needed to draw the bath but tend to Lady Hampstead. I told her I would stay with the lady until she returned. It was only when I felt the lady’s forehead, I realized how overheated she was. I took the letter opener from the desk and opened the outer corset. That’s when I saw the blood and yelled for a doctor. I assure you, I would never harm Olivia.”  
“And he didn’t.” The doctor scowled at the group. “Did any of you know she was pregnant?”  
“Pregnant?!” Silas rounded on Thomas. “You!” Lucille began to tremble. This was not part of the plan. Had Thomas betrayed her?  
“It isn't Thomas’s!” The constable grabbed Silas’s arm as he prepared to swing. The room turned to Marian. “The baby…the baby belonged to Nathaniel.”  
“You knew?” Silas shrugged off the constable and turned on his wife.  
“Livi begged me not to tell anyone. She knew how important a quick marriage was to you, so she wanted to keep it a secret until she found someone to marry.”  
“Well, that’s no longer a problem, I'm afraid. She miscarried the child. She’ll need rest and care to prevent risk of infection.”  
“Of course.”  
“While I don’t approve of your conduct, Sir Sharpe, you saved the lady’s life.” The doctor left the room. The constable left with him.  
Lucille sidled up to Thomas and clutched at his hand. He gently pulled his free. “Might I see her?”  
“Absolutely not!” Silas blustered, his chest puffed out.  
“Yes, go on up, Thomas.” Marian glared at her husband.  
Thomas knocked softly on the door. The maid had taken down her hair and brushed it against the pillow. Olivia looked white against the dark red of her hair. “You gave me quite a scare.” He held the hat in hands as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her.  
“I’m sorry, Thomas. I should have told you.”   
“It’s alright, my darling. We all have our secrets.”  
Olivia looked out the window. “Michael and this baby were the only joy Nathaniel ever gave me.” She slipped her hand into his without looking. His long fingers curled around it. “I put up with the cruelty and the violence because I had my children to love. He tried to hurt the baby. I couldn’t let him hurt the baby.”  
“I thought your husband's name was Arthur."  
"Arthur was my first husband. Nathaniel was my second." Thomas studied her face. This changed nothing in his feelings for her, but it explained some her sadness. “Did you know my late husband was a masonry worker? Oh yes, he was a lord, but he could build sturdy walls with his hands.” She met his confused, conflicted gaze. “You asked me what happened to my hands the day we met. Do you remember?”  
“I do.” His voice was soft. He willed her to stop. If he didn’t care about her, didn't know her, things would be easier.  
“He walled me up in the garden.”  
“He did what?”  
Olivia turned away at the horror on Thomas’s face. “There was an alcove that I used to sit in and read to the babies. One afternoon, he beat me unconscious and walled me up in it.” She trembled at the memory. “Have you ever woken up in darkness, Thomas? Not simply night, but complete darkness.”  
He wanted to hold her, to chase away the sorrow and horror in her voice, the horror he felt. “Olivia-“  
“You should leave now. If you knew what was good for you, you’d leave and never come back. It would be better for the both of us.” She gently withdrew her hand and bodily turned away from him. He swallowed and stood. With a sigh, he leaned down and kissed her temple. She didn’t know how right she was.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucille watched from under the tree. The brilliant summer sun shone down on the park. Thomas lay on his side on the blanket. He stacked blocks with the infant. They took turns knocking them down. Olivia sat near Thomas’s head, behind the child should it fall over.  
Perhaps this one was a mistake. The sting the scene before her caused could not be eased by looking away. Thomas had become so good at playacting, she couldn’t tell if the smile on his face was real or false. The glasses hid his eyes at this distance. A dog paused at the edge of the blanket. The baby rose on its unsteady feet.  
“Look, Livi.” Olivia looked up from her book and closed it with a snap. Thomas’s hand rested on her thigh. Michael took a few unsure steps, gaining in confidence as he grew closer to the dog. The dog gave a yip and ran off. The startled toddler fell on his butt.  
Olivia swept him up, laughing. She spun him around in the air then drew him close and covered him in kisses. She set the boy down then Thomas promptly repeated her actions, spinning her around. The pair laughed. Lucille jerked as Thomas placed a spontaneous kiss on Olivia’s lips. The quick kiss spurred a second longer kiss. Thomas reached up to cup her face. He stared into her eyes over the glasses. The second kiss became a third kiss more appropriate for the bedroom. Then the pair seemed to remember where they were and pulled apart.  
Olivia crouched next to her son. “If a dog is what you need to walk, young man, then mummy will get you a puppy.” Thomas's gaze found Lucille under the tree. Yes, the smile on his face was genuine. And it fell at Lucille’s seething hurt and anger.

“Pick another!”  
“I can’t.”  
“Can’t? Or won’t.” Lucille stood chest to chest with Thomas. “Are you beginning to care for her? For the child?”  
“Nonsense, Lucille.”  
She shoved her brother in the chest with both hands. “You cannot lie to me, Thomas! I see it in your face. In your eyes! Pick another!”  
“She won’t be with us very long. Why does it matter?”  
“Because you love me!” Lucille beat his chest. He caught her wrists and yanked her against him.  
“I do.” She tried to jerk away but he held her tight. His arms wrapped around her like a vise. “I do.” 

Olivia and Lucille sat on the pier of the pond, their skirts gathered about their laps and their feet dangling in the water. Olivia leaned back, propping herself up on her hands and squinting into the sunlit.  
“I’m glad you and Thomas joined Michael and I for the weekend.”  
“I’m honored you invited us.”  
“I didn’t want to spend my last weekend, my last bit of summer, at the house alone.”  
“It’s a lovely estate, Olivia. Why did you sell it?”  
“It’s much too big for Michael and I. Had I more children, a bigger family, I might have kept it.”  
“But surely a large parcel of land would be desirable to a new husband.”  
“Oh Lucille, I don’t want a new husband for money and land. I want him to love me and my son. I want children from love. Not from necessity and social standing.” She flopped on her back and kicked water into the air with her foot. “Can I tell you a secret, Lucille?”  
“Of course, Olivia.”  
Olivia waved her closer. Lucille leaned down until they were laying side by side on the pier. Olivia leaned up to whisper in her ear. “You’re lucky. You’ve a brother that takes care of you and isn’t trying to marry you off. You’re not being forced into an arranged marriage or a marriage of convenience. I wish my uncle loved me half as much as your brother loves you.” She caressed the backs of her fingers along Lucille’s cheek as she pulled back. Her gaze flicked from Lucille’s dark eyes to her dark pink lips. She did not pull away from Olivia and her intimate look.  
Thundering footsteps on pier drew them apart. “Am I interrupting something?”  
Olivia shielded her eyes as she looked up at Thomas. Her heart twisted at sight of him with Michael on his hip. Her son tried to pull at the dark curls just out of his grasp. Lucille looked at the emotion on Olivia’s face. She would stop suggesting Thomas find someone else. They had everything they needed in that one look.  
Thomas set the child on the dock, and Michael walked to Lucille. “Sharing secrets. You look rather chipper, brother.” Lucille lifted the child and set him on her lap. He began to reach for her loose curls.  
“The grounds keeper let me use his workshop to make something for Michael. Come see.” Thomas couldn’t have been sure what happened next only that as he helped Olivia to stand, he heard a splash.  
“Michael!” Lucille jumped into the water, followed by the boy’s mother. She brought him to the surface and Olivia gathered the spurting, sqwauking child into her arms. “He lunged out of my arms, Olivia. I’m so sorry.”  
“It’s alright, Lucille. He’s fine. Only scared.” The soaked women trudged up the bank, holding hands tightly to keep from stumbling or falling in the silt. Thomas ran around to help, offering arm to both. The boy reached for Thomas after he had calmed. Thomas looked askance, not from Olivia but from Lucille. Her pretty face set into firm lines, but she gave a curt nod. Better for them in the long run if the boy warmed to him now.  
“Would you still like to see his toy?”  
“I’d love to, Thomas. Then we can get changed from our impromptu swim.” Thomas hurried them to the workshop. The rocking horse gleamed in the light. Its legs appeared to move as the gears turned from the rocking motion. “You did this just today?”  
“I built one for the attic playroom. I went off of memory. Your grounds keeper had what I needed and helped.”  
“It’s beautiful, Thomas. Thank you.” She kissed his cheek. He ached to taste her lips again, but they hadn’t had another stolen moment since the party.  
“You’re welcome. Now, you ladies leave young Michael with me and go get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death.” Lucille caught his gaze as they turned away. He couldn’t read the look. No doubt, she would explain later.

The nurse maid took Michael to lay him down for a nap and the three of them sat in the afternoon fanning themselves. The brother and sister looked at each other. “I think I’ll go for a walk in the garden. Either of you care to join me?”  
“No, I think I’ll just enjoy warmth of the sun. Thomas, you should go with her.”  
The pair walked hand in hand down the path to the garden. “It’s a shame you’re selling this. It’s beautiful country.”  
“It’s much too big for Michael and me.” She looked down at their feet, noticing that they’d fallen into step. “The money will go into a trust to pay for his college.”  
“Where will you live?”  
“If I cannot find apartments in London, then I’ll be forced to live with Silas and Marian until he marries me off.”  
Thomas spun her around. “Why do you let him treat you like a commodity?”  
“Because I am?”  
He grabbed her arms and shook her. “You’re so much more than that.”  
“Am I? How do I know you’re not trying to seduce me for my money?”  
He walked her back and pushed her roughly against a tree. His knee came up between her legs and the friction drove her mad. “Because I’m far more interested in your 'honey pot'.” His mouth crushed hers in a bruising kiss. He worked his knee against her and she rode it. The friction of his trousers against her clit left her gasping into his mouth. His left hand closed in her loose hair; his right pressed against her ribs to cup the underside of her breast. She pulled the laces of his trousers and slipped her hand inside. He shuddered at her hand around his growing cock.  
Thomas trailed kisses down her throat. None of the others had fired this desire in him. He wanted to possess her in every sense of the word, even at the risk of Lucille’s wrath. But surely after spending time alone with her, Lucille saw what he saw. Perhaps Olivia would be different than the rest. She felt different. In his mind, in his heart, in his soul.  
“Thomas, where are you?”  
“I’m right here.”  
“You’re miles away. Come back to me.” She touched his face with her free hand. “Come back to me.” She stroked him despite the awkward angle the trousers caused. They didn’t look away from each other. He pressed his forehead to hers. Their heavy breath mingled in their open mouths. He felt the pressure building. His hand left her breast and sought the pearl between her legs.  
“I’m here, my darling.” The touch of his fingers against that sensitive nub drove a spike through her. “Now, come with me.” Her legs began to shake and her moans became gasping cries. His mouth covered hers and their cries mingled as they both felt release. He saw a flash of love in her eyes before they closed. A flash mirrored in his own. He’d broken the cardinal rule. Their cardinal rule.


	5. Chapter 5

Thomas gave Olivia his hand as she boarded the train with Michael in her arms. He waved to Silas. Both men seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as they turned away. He followed his bride to their suite. Without a wet nurse, she’d have to feed him every time. A knot in Thomas’s gut loosened but another knot tightened.  
He closed the flimsy door behind him and latched the lock. “You don’t have to stay with us. You may go down to the club car.”  
“I have all I need here.” He removed his hat and gloves and sat down opposite her. She shrugged and set the baby on the seat. He crawled to the window and looked out, his tiny face alight with wonder at all the new sights. Thomas was surprised by Olivia kissing him. He laughed. “What was that for?”  
“The look on your face. Such love for a boy not your own.” Love? Did he love the child? The boy was his now. He should and would treat him as his own. Make him a strong man to carry on the Sharpe name. Love would come. “Come here, my angel.” She grabbed the wiggling mass and freed him from his coat.  
Thomas watched as his new wife got her child to latch, covered him with a warm blanket and began to rock him. She hummed softly as she played with his hair. Before he knew it, the baby had gone to sleep and his wife was smiling at him.  
“What is it, Livi?”  
“The look on your face. The love and tenderness.”  
He cleared his throat and looked down at his papers, ruffling them uncomfortably. “Yes, well-“  
She leaned over and kissed him over the baby. “It’s alright to show love, Thomas.” Her thumb caressed his cheek. Their eyes met. "It doesn't make you weak. Love makes us strong, my darling."  
He looked up. “I remember the first time I looked into your eyes. You were standing in the street outside your uncle’s and you had such a sadness in them. One I recognized and knew all too well. I wanted, no I yearned, to chase it away. I believe I’ve succeeded.”  
“I believe you have.” She laid the baby in the bassinet on the floor between the seats. “Your sadness still remains. Do we not make you happy? Do I not?”  
“It’s not that.” He looked away. The air left him as she dropped down across his lap. “Olivia-“  
“Are you happy, Thomas?”  
“Livi-“  
She seized his chin and turned him to look her in the face. Again, he saw Lucille in the stern lines of her face, the emotion that bordered on hurt. “I deserve an answer. Are you happy, Thomas?”  
“Yes, no, I don’t know, Olivia. I came to London for capital. I hadn’t intended on a wife and child.”  
“If all you want is capital, I can write you a check and return to the city on the morning train.”  
She stood up, but he jerked her back down. He fussed with the ruffles at her chest. “The only person I’ve ever loved is Lucille. And I find myself loving you and your son. It confuses me. I’ve been the son and the brother. Now I’m the husband and the father. And I am afraid I will fail.”  
“Oh Thomas, I’ll help you. I won’t let you fail.” She untied his cravat and leaned in to kiss his throat as her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt. “Let me chase away that sadness.”  
“The baby-“  
“He will sleep.” Olivia reached between them and unlaced his trousers. At the touch of her hand, his cock began to stiffen. His open mouth pressed to her neck where his moans died against her skin. He bit down on her pulse and was rewarded with a gasp as she melted against him. She stroked him hard as she freed him from the trousers. He kissed and sucked the tops of her breasts, brushing his teeth along the globes.  
Thomas lifted her up so she could swing her leg over his lap and sit astride him. His eyes filled with something of wonder and desire. His jaw set, jutted out slightly as Olivia slid slowly down the length of him. His back arched and he grabbed her hips. He buried his face in between her breasts as she began to move. His hips moved of their own accord, and he pulled her mouth down to his. He reached between them and thumbed her clit. Her body shook as she rode him. He grunted with effort to meet her movements. Her helpless feral whining as he thumbed her clit drove him mad. No, Olivia wasn’t like the others and certainly not like Lucille.  
Her legs began to shake on the outside of his thighs. “Yes, my darling. Let go.” His reluctance at their union fell away, piece by piece with each thrust. She felt like freedom, like home, like forever. He bit down on her pulse and that was all she needed to shove her over. Her body clenched around him and that was all he needed to release deep inside her. He brushed the hair from her face as she breathed through her nose in an effort to slow her rapid heart. He longed to tell her what was in his heart, but he didn’t quite understand it himself. He wanted to warn her, but he didn’t know how.  
Olivia turned to kiss his palm, holding his hand with hers. She kissed down to his wrist. He brought her mouth to his and kissed every inch of her lips. Someone knocked on the door. She slid from his lap and made sure she looked presentable while he tucked himself back in his trousers. She’d left a wet spot on his lap that he covered with the papers.  
“Yes?”  
“Lady and Sir Sharpe, dinner will be served in the dining car promptly at seven.”  
“Thank you.” Thomas nodded and Olivia closed the door.  
“Darling, I believe I need to change my trousers.” He moved the papers away. She gasped and giggled, meeting his smiling eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spirits of Allerdale Hall waste no time.

Thomas leapt down from the carriage and lifted Olivia down by the waist. The workmen for the machine carried the baggage into the house.  
“Take Michael’s things to the attic.”  
“No.”  
“No?” Thomas swiveled around and looked at his bride.  
“We discussed this. It’s a new place and it is quite large. Not to mention intimidating and a little scary.” Her gloved hand touched his cheek. “I want him to feel like this is home.”  
“Take his things to the master bedroom. Lady Sharpe and I will find him a room close to ours.” The smile on her face brought a smile to his own.  
“It was simply splendid of Lucille to come ahead and make sure it was safe for Michael.”  
“Parts of the house are unsafe, my darling. Even for Lucille to come ahead and make preparations, he will not be allowed to wander where he pleases.”  
“Thomas,” she laughed, “he’s barely a year. He’s not going to exploring by himself just yet. We’ve some time, my love.”  
“Of course, allow me.” He swept her up into his arms and strode swiftly over the threshold. “Once we’re settled, I’ll take you on a tour of the rooms we use the most.” He set her on her feet. Clay squelched through a floorboard and soaked her slipper. He began to apologize as she knelt. Her toe pressed the board to make more clay come through which she shoved her fingers in.  
“‘Out. Out, oh damned spot.’“  
“What was that, darling?” He crouched next to her as she smeared the red clay between her fingers.  
“Nothing, my love. Shakespeare.” She wiped her fingers on the skirt and left a red streak. “The Lady Macbeth feels so much guilt for her ambition and the murder of Duncan that it begins to drive her mad with nightmares. She sleepwalks and scrubs her hands raw to try to wash away the blood that stains her hands.”  
Thomas took her chin lightly and turned her to face him. “Such dark things for a new bride to be thinking of. Let me kiss them away.” His lips pressed to hers tenderly. He searched her eyes. He couldn’t explain the disappointment he felt at the return of the sadness in her eyes. “Smile for me, darling. It pains me when you are sad.” Olivia smiled softly. He laced his fingers in hers and lead her to the scullery. “Lucille!”  
“In here, Thomas!” Lucille sat with Michael on her knee. She’d given the boy a sweet. “Imagine my surprise when I found this gentleman crawling up the hall.”  
“He must have woken up when the workmen brought him in. I’m so sorry.”  
“It’s quite alright. Thank Heavens, I found him before he got lost.” The baby smiled at his mother and kicked his feet, but he reached for Thomas. “Thomas, your son wants you.” Lucille gave him a veiled look he tried to read but couldn’t.  
“I’m afraid I can’t. I need to see how the workmen are coming along with the excavator.”  
“Nonsense! Michael and I will come with you. You spoke so passionately to my uncle about it and on the train.” She lifted the boy and set him on her hip. “Perhaps Aunt Lucille will help us with a bath later?”  
Lucille flinched, both at being called ‘aunt’ and at being invited to help care for the child. “I…don’t see why not.”  
“Good! Now let’s go get good and dirty.” Olivia ran out of the scullery with the baby in her arms.  
“Thomas?”  
“I’ll take care of it.” He ran after her. “Olivia! Livi, wait!” She’d already slowed to a stop before the towering machine.  
“You built this with your own hands?”  
“The model, yes. The workmen helped with the full scale.”  
Olivia set Michael in the grass and clay. The boy began to smack and squish the red muck in his chubby little hands. She watched the machine work for a few moments, in pure awe. “My husband is a genius. I married a genius.” She spun and kissed him by surprise. He stiffened at first then melted into it, breathing her in. His arm wound around her waist and pulled her body against his.  
Her cheeks had flushed by the time he pulled away. “If I could get the blasted thing to stay working, I’d be a genius.”  
“You can and you will.” Her palms pressed to his face. “I have faith in you.” A small dog ran up barking. Michael laughed and reached for it with red hands. “Thomas, you didn’t tell me you had a dog.”  
“We don’t.”  
Olivia crouched next Michael who was holding the dog, smearing clay on it while it licked his face. “We do now.” She beamed up at him. He shielded his apprehension at the dog’s appearance with a hand against the brilliant sun.

Michael splashed in the pink water, while Olivia and Lucille sat on the riser. Olivia laid her cheek on her hand as she drew circles in the water. Lucille hummed softly to the baby as he poured water down his back. He gasped, momentarily seized by panic, but he found his mother’s face and smiled again and splashed more.  
“Lucille, do mind watching him while I go make sure his nightgown is laid out? There’s a chill in the air and I’d hate for him to come down sick.”  
“Of course.” Lucille lovingly focused on the child, poking at the sadness in her heart that only she and Thomas knew.  
Olivia stood by the bed, rummaging through the suitcase that contained Michael’s clothes. She felt a light touch on her foot and shooed the dog away. The touch returned and she shooed it away again. The dog scampered into the room and sat in the doorway. A red ball rolled from under the bed. Confusion and fear gripped her momentarily, but surely it was Thomas hiding under the bed. The dog chased after the ball. “Got you!” Olivia whipped the coverlet back to catch Thomas playing with her foot, but there was no one there.  
She knelt down and searched the entire under bed and found nothing. “Darling?” She startled and looked up at Thomas. “What are you doing on the floor?”  
“Nothing…” She looked from the empty space under the bed up to her husband. “The dog startled me is all.” She stood and tracked the dog chasing the ball out the door and into the corridor.  
“Livi, you’re positively trembling.”  
“Perhaps a bath and some tea will warm her up.” Lucille appeared in the doorway of the bathroom with Michael bundled up.  
“That sounds splendid. I’ll help you, Lucille.”  
“I’m perfectly capable-“  
“That will give Olivia and Michael quiet time in their new home. Perhaps falling asleep on his mother’s breast, he’ll sleep through the night.”  
“That’s a wonderful idea, Thomas.” Olivia kissed his cheek then took the baby from Lucille. “Don’t be too long.” Olivia set the baby on the bed and began to dry him off more with the blanket. The incident with her foot pushed to the back of her mind.  
Thomas and Lucille shared a look behind her back then slipped from the room. Thomas moved the water over the cook fire and Lucille brought down the tea tins. He slammed his hand over the red tea canister, as she lifted the lid. “Not that one.”  
“What?”  
“Michael is still at the breast. We cannot give her that tea.”  
“Then how do you suppose-“  
“It will only delay things.”  
Lucille inspected the tea set. “In the meantime?”  
“I will play husband.”  
“And what do you suppose I do?”  
“What you do best.” Lucille prepared the tea. Thomas could feel the tension in her. He sighed and stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders. “We will make it through this.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

Lucille brought the tea set up to the bedroom. She paused in the doorway and Thomas practically ran into her. Olivia stood next to the cradle that Thomas had brought down from the attic, humming softly. “Hush, baby, mummy is here. Mummy will keep you safe. Mummy and Thomas and Aunt Lucille, we’ll keep you safe, poppet.”  
She stood up and turned around as Lucille set the tea on the table. “Is he settling nicely?”  
“I believe so, but generally, Michael is a happy baby. I’m the one who worries and becomes upset.” She moved to the chair and began to unpin her hair. Thomas looked pointedly at Lucille, who frowned then set her face into a neutral mask.  
“If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.” She quietly left the room, closing the doors behind her.  
“Her hospitality is welcoming, but I get the feeling that she doesn’t want me here.”  
“Nonsense, Livi, Lucille isn’t used to anyone else being here but her and I. Just like you and Michael have to adjust, so does she.” He stoked the fire in the hearth.  
She rose from the chair then leaned down to kiss his ear. “Dear husband, I believe I need help washing my back.” She walked away from him, unzipping the dress at her neck and letting it fall. He could see the curves of her body through the thin shift. He glanced to the door then rose and walked the few steps. She had let the shift fall to the bathroom floor.  
The water burst forth red then ran clear. He touched her shoulder as steam drifted up from the filling tub. She faced him, and he let his fingers trail down her arm as he leaned in tentatively to take her lips. The timid kiss grew as she began to unbutton his shirt.  
“I should leave you to your bath.”  
Her fingers unlaced his trousers then she massaged his growing bulge through the fabric. “So cautious and timid, you are now. Where is my passionate lover who covered my mouth so I wouldn’t scream on the train?”  
“Lucille-“  
“-Is well aware that you are a married man now. Surely, she doesn’t expect you to be celibate in the marriage bed, my darling.”  
“I don’t know what she expects.”  
Olivia peppered kisses along his neck and shoulder as she pushed the shirt off of him. Her teeth scraped his collarbone. With a groan, he returned kisses along her bare shoulder and throat. He lifted her up to set her in the tub.  
The baby shrieked from the bedroom. Olivia’s head snapped up and Thomas whipped around. Michael began to wail. She shoved her husband to the side, reaching down to grab her shift and pull it over her shoulders as she ran for the bedroom. She saw a shadow lurch jerkily by the door.  
“Thomas! There’s someone in the hall!” Olivia gathered the baby to her and held him against her chest, bouncing and comforting him. Thomas opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Nothing, not even Lucille spying on the pair.  
“There’s no one here, darling.” The baby snuffed at her chest.  
“Well, someone was in here. He’s terrified. He-“ She looked up at Thomas, her eyes full of remembered terror. “He only screams like that when he’s been hurt or he’s scared.”  
He wrapped his arms around her tightly, the baby snuggly between them. “Sh, it’s alright. There’s no one here but you and I. If it will make you feel better, I’ll sit in here with him while you have your bath.”  
Olivia tilted her head back. “Romantic mood ruined, eh?” She smiled sadly.  
He leaned down and kissed her lips, tasting the sweetness of them one at a time. “We have the rest of our lives, my darling.”


	7. Chapter 7

The thunderheads had moved closer all morning until they finally overtook Allerdale Hall just after midday. The sky ripped open with torrential rain. With shrieks of laughter and uncontrollable grins, Thomas and Olivia abandoned their picnic and ran for the nearest shelter, an outlying work shed.  
“I was sure we had more time.”  
“Nature is unpredictable, my love.” They faced each other in the darkened shack, breathing heavily from their sprint. His eyes dropped to the rise and fall of the swell of her breasts. They flicked back to her face and saw the want there. His mouth took hers in a demanding kiss. These stolen moments with her thrilled him. Between the baby’s needs and Lucille’s watchful eye, they didn’t get to be with each other nearly enough for his liking. Thomas wanted to say something to Lucille but feared she might do something rash.  
Olivia’s lips parted and his tongue stole inside. Thomas walked her back against the work table. His hands fought with the wet layers of her dress as hers skillfully untied the laces of his trousers. “Quickly, my darling, before the storm passes.” His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of her ass as he lifted her onto the work table. She perched on the edge, her feet braced against the shelf. She sighed bone deep as he filled her with a thrust. Her back arched, offering up her neck and chest.  
With a growl, Thomas marked her pale flesh with his teeth. The bite marks from the train were long healed and he needed to see his mark on her skin. She was his. He'd chosen her. He'd won her. She was his and his alone. This possession ignited him. The longer he knew her, the longer he wanted her. He'd never follow through. He would find another way.  
Thunder crashed and the wind howled, spiriting their shouts and cries away. Her nails marked his shoulders as her release overtook her in a shuddering rush. The way she clung to him drove him harder. His arm clamped around her waist, holding her still as he drove his throbbing cock into her grasping cunt until the pressure burst.  
They held each other in the afterglow of their spent passion, listening to their panting breath. The storm eased then passed altogether, bringing with it the cold of autumn. He pushed the wet hair from her face, searching her eyes.  
“No more shadows? No more nightmares?” She shook her head. “Good.”  
“Thomas…”  
“Yes, darling?”  
Olivia laid her head against his beating heart. She hated lying to him but the nightmares were her own guilt and the shadows distressed him. She prayed to whatever lay beyond this world that he couldn’t feel her trembling. And if he did, that he attributed it to their wet clothing and the chill. “I love you.”  
He swallowed. It wasn’t a lie when he said, “I love you.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her back so he could kiss her. “Come, let’s get to the house before Lucille starts to worry.”

Lucille watched Olivia crawl on the floor of the library with Michael. The boy ran in front of her as she pretended to chase him. Then they would reverse and the boy would chase his mother across the carpet. He’d begun eating more solid food and less breast milk. Hopefully soon, they could do what had been done before.  
“Lucille?”  
“Yes, Olivia?”  
“Come sit by the fire with us. I wanted to read Michael a fairy story.”  
“I don’t think-“  
“Please? He adores when you sing to him. Almost more than I.” Lucille smiled despite herself. She sat next to Olivia and Michael crawled into her lap and reached for her hair. She hummed softly as Olivia read from a thin book of fairy tales to the baby, not noticing that Olivia had moved behind her. She closed the book, listening to her sister-in-law sing. Her fingers brushed the line of Lucille’s neck.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Your skin is so soft, much like Thomas’s.” Lucille stiffened as Olivia’s lips hovered above her pulse. “I wonder if it tastes as sweet.” She abruptly set the baby on the floor and stood up, causing Olivia’s lips to brush her skin.  
“I should see about supper.” Her heels loudly announced her departure. She brushed past Thomas as he entered the library. The only other person that had touched her like that was- No, no, it must have been a mistake. And yet, she couldn’t help wondering what those lips might have felt like if she hadn’t gotten up.  
Olivia sat by Michael playing with a lock of hair that had fallen loose, watching Lucille hurry from the room. Thomas looked after his sister, but she didn’t look back. He bent to his wife, holding her chin. His fingers trailed over her pulse and felt it jump.  
“Excited to see me.”  
“Always, husband.” He dropped down on the rug next to her and Michael immediately attacked him. The pair play wrestled for a moment before Thomas lie on his back and let the boy crawl over him. “Thomas, I thought perhaps we could move Michael in to the room down from ours tomorrow. He’ll be weaned soon.”  
“He will?” Thomas sat up. She took his change in demeanor for excitement at having his wife’s breasts all to himself, as well as his marriage bed. She was staring at the fire, unpinning her hair.  
“He will. It’ll be simply wonderful to have sherry once more. I never realized how much help a wet nurse was until I no longer had one.”  
A bubble of panic rose in Thomas. Lucille would begin to drug and poison her as soon as young Michael was off the breast. Of this, he had no doubt. Despite as loving as Olivia treated her sister in law, as inclusive she was with regards to the care of Michael, how she’d taken on the duties of the house without so much as a complaint. He’d have to find a way to stop her.  
Thomas touched her chin then turned it to face him. “My dearest, do not tell Lucille when you have weaned Michael.”  
“Why ever not?”  
“I wouldn’t want her to pressure you into having another child.”  
Olivia looked up at her husband. “And why wouldn’t I want to have a baby with my husband?” She touched his face lightly. She misread the emotions in his watery eyes. “My love, my body is my business and yours. If you are not ready for us to have a child, simply speak. I will take precautions.”  
Thomas blinked. He’d been so caught up in completing the machine that he hadn’t been paying attention to his home. Michael walked with confidence now. It would be perfectly natural for them to have a child. Lucille hummed in the kitchen like she did when it was only them. She often left her hair unpinned. And his wife supported his dream, his ambition. She encouraged him. She'd transferred money into the Sharpe and Son account.  
He would talk with Lucille. Perhaps Olivia wouldn’t be like the others. For starters, she'd been with them longer, by leaps and bounds. And he loved her. He loved her from the moment he found her in the mud.  
“Darling, say something.” Her thumbs caressed his cheeks.  
“Whatever makes you happy, darling, I will do it.”

Lucille wrung her hands as she stood over the tea set. She needed to be alone with Thomas. She needed reassurance that he still loved her. She saw the way he looked at Olivia. He’d never looked at the others like that. With passion, with love. And the boy…he’d nearly split his face when Michael had called him ‘papa’. She wouldn’t poison the tea. But a bit of laudanum couldn’t hurt. Mother and child would sleep and she could have Thomas to herself.

Steam curled up from the tub. It filled half the bathroom as a matter of fact. Olivia lounged in the hot water, her foot draped over the rim. Drips from her toes had formed a puddle on the riser. The neigh on unpleasant sting of heat turned her flesh a deep pink. She glimpsed Lucille bring the tea set into the bedroom.  
“Oh, Lucille, would you come here please?”  
“What is it, Olivia?”  
“Thomas is in his workshop showing Michael some of your old toys.” Lucille glanced at the water. What she saw confused her, fired her. The tops of her breasts floated just under the water. She followed the line of her legs to a shadowy triangle of auburn hair. Lucille looked away. “Would you wash my back, sister?”  
How would she explain her reluctance without being obvious? Would Olivia become upset? Hysterical? And how would she explain it to Thomas? “Why, of course…” Olivia drew her leg into the water and sat up. Lucille looked away from her lovely, round breasts. The rough clothe brought a sigh from her sister in law.  
Olivia closed her eyes and laid her head on her knees. She opened them slowly as Lucille stopped. She had knelt next to the tub. And as Olivia sat up, her face came close to Lucille’s. “You’re so lovely, Lucille. You’ve lips like the sweetest cherries.” She touched her cheek and pressed her thumb to Lucille’s bottom lip. Lucille froze, unsure what to do. “Your eyes hold a sadness and a loneliness much like Thomas’s, like my own.” Olivia leaned closer. “I could help take that sadness away. I could make you happy like I’ve made Thomas.” Her lips brushed Lucille’s.  
“Am I interrupting?”  
Lucille’s head snapped around. “No, not at all.” She cleared her throat and stood up. “I’ll leave you two alone. There’s tea in the sitting area.” Thomas and Lucille made eye contact. Thomas blinked at his sister’s flushed cheeks and throat. She looked away and hurried from the room.  
Olivia lay back in the tub, draping her leg over the side once more. “The baby asleep?” His eyes devoured her and his body responded in kind. His cock pushed against the crotch of his trousers.  
“Yes, you positively wore him out today.”  
“He wore himself out. Now that he’s discovered he can run. I chase him and that dog up and down these halls.”  
Thomas began to unbutton his shirt. “Mind if I join you?”  
“I would be remiss if you didn’t.” Olivia licked her lips as he shrugged out of his waistcoat and shirt. She trailed her dripping fingers down her thigh as he unlaced his trousers, stepping out of his shoes. He watched her face as he shed the pants then pulled them off. Pride, possession, passion welled in his belly. An anxious need to own her, to fill her, gnawed in his belly. He strode to the tub with the swagger in his step.  
His wife caught him by surprise when she sat forward and reached for his cock. He stood still as she stroked him. His lips parted and his breath hitched. She darted forward like a serpent and took the end of his dick between her lips. She looked up at him as she slid further down his length. His chest heaved. Never had he-never had anyone, not even- His thoughts cut off as she suckled him then drew back. He wanted more…  
“Get in the tub, Thomas.”  
“Yes, Olivia.” She scooted forward so that he had enough room to ease in behind her. His body felt firm and solid behind her as she lay back against him. His arms wrapped around her as he pressed his face into her neck, nipping and nuzzling. “What were you and Lucille talking about?”  
She cocked her hips to push her ass against his groin and still hard cock. “I was just saying how lovely she was.” She sighed and continued the torturous rubbing. He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her. “She really is quite beautiful. A bit severe but lovely. We’re very lucky your parents never married her off.”  
“Yes…”  
“Thomas?”  
“Yes, my darling.” The water moved in waves as she rubbed her slit along the length of his cock.  
“Why are you afraid of Lucille?”  
“I’m not.” She reached behind his neck and held on as she ground harder against him, splashing water onto the floor. His open mouth pressed to the back of her neck, scraping his bottom teeth along her spine.  
“Then why must we behave like we’re having an affair? Stealing kisses when she’s not looking, fucking in the work shed and random rooms throughout the house.”  
“I…” He sighed, grazing his nails up her belly to grab onto her breasts, kneading them slowly but thoroughly. She sighed and glided her foot along his leg in the water. “I’m afraid of her jealousy.”  
“And who would she be jealous of? Us? You? Or perhaps me?” Olivia slid her leg into the water. Her feet braced against the porcelain as she lifted herself. He sat up straight, startled by her questions but he forgot himself as she slid down the length of him. He forgot the machine. He forgot Michael and Lucille. He forgot the others. When they were locked together like this, there was only her.  
Water splashed onto the floor as their motions became fast and demanding. He set his jaw but let his head drop back. He made no sound as she rode his thrusts, their feet braced against the far end of the tub. His fingers dug into her breasts. Olivia reached between her thighs and rubbed her clit, shooting herself higher. The head of his cock brushed her sweet spot.  
As her panting moans grew louder, he covered her mouth with his hand. His head dropped forward and he bit her hard on her neck. She bucked against him, practically screaming her release into his hand. He felt her tighten then relax around him. He growled then bit her again, not releasing his teeth until he came.  
They slumped against the back of the tub, panting heavily. Olivia was the first to move. She stood up between his legs. “Scoot forward, husband and let me take care of you.” Thomas took her place and she settled into the water behind him, wrapping her calves over his thighs. She washed his back and chest and groin. Tension that never completely relaxed began to ease in his muscles.  
Thomas closed his eyes and she poured water over his head and began to wash his hair. The slight tugs on his hair sent thrills through him. He held his breath momentarily with each pull. She rinsed his hair, combing her fingers through the black locks. She deliberately pulled his hair, noticing the way he reacted when she’d done it by accident. He grinned once he realized she was doing it on purpose.  
“Why, Lady Sharpe, are you looking to get fucked by your husband a second time tonight?”  
Her breath against his ear sent shivers down his spine. “Yes, my love.” Her tongue darted out then her teeth scraped the lobe. He sucked in a sharp breath. The more they explored each other, the more he discovered he liked a touch of pain with his pleasure.  
He drew in a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He leaned against her, laying his head on her shoulder. She lazily played with his hair and traced circles in water on his chest. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”  
“Our souls cried out for one another. Our sadness spoke to each other.”  
“You’re not like the others.”  
“What others?”  
“Everyone.”  
“Arthur thought it was an abomination that I enjoyed what we did in bed. Like I was supposed to regard it as a chore and nothing more. He called me a whore and treated me with disrespect.” Thomas’s eyes opened slowly. “He brought a business associate home that night. A man from the Far East. He and his wife had the most beautiful brown skin and dark eyes. And her hair was so soft…” Olivia closed her eyes as she spoke, remembering Jameria. “The men did what men do to impress. They drank scotch and smoked cigars in Arthur’s den, leaving us women to fend for ourselves. Perhaps I had too much wine…perhaps I’d had too much neglect.”  
Thomas caressed her arms around him. She’d never spoken of her first husband. Nor her second. “I believe I simply wanted pure affection and attention.” She blinked back the tears in her eyes, swallowing them down. She was too caught up in the memory to stop and maybe it was better if he knew what his wife was. “Her lips were so sweet…they tasted like cinnamon. She kissed me so tenderly and showed me things, Thomas.” Her breath hitched. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her to stop. “Have you ever kissed a woman between her legs? It’s magical. I saw stars, my darling. I’d never felt anything like it.” She pressed her face to his neck, breathing in his scent. “I remember the look of revulsion of Arthur’s face when he found us. He made them leave, in their cups and in the middle of the night. He threw them out of the house and swore he would cut ties with them.”  
“Olivia-“  
“Not now, Thomas. You need to know.” She drew a shaking breath and held him tighter, terrified he would pull away. “I led a pampered life, my darling. We were aristocrats and lived well. And even though I was precocious child, I was very much a lady. I never thought men struck their wives. So imagine my surprise when he slapped me. But that wasn’t enough. He struck me like he would a man, closed fist. Again and again and again. He dragged me through the house by my hair and threw me down a flight of stairs. I know now he was going to throw me out in the street like a whore, but in that moment, I thought he was going to kill me. I reacted. I kicked. I felt the bone crack beneath my heel. He staggered backward. I saw the blood…”  
“Olivia, stop.”  
“You married a murdering whore, Thomas Sharpe.”  
He stood up and stepped out of the tub. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t bring these thoughts and feelings into words. Instead, he gave her his back and toweled off, while he thought. This explained more of her guilt and shame. Two things he knew all too well. “You are not a whore. You are not a murderess. And you will never call yourself as such again. Am I understood?” He flung the towel into the chair. She stood up slowly in tub. He met her fearful eyes with his own intense gaze, letting her see nothing but the desire and love he felt for her. They were kindred, he and she. “Hurry and dry off so that I can make my bride see stars.”  
Olivia watched him with hope in her heart as he walked brazenly, beautifully naked to their bed. She had confessed one of her sins and he had not shunned her. He wanted her as much now as he had before. She stepped from the tub. A rush of cold air pebbled her flesh. She looked up in the mirror and froze. A shadow stood by her, reaching out to touch her. She looked away from the mirror and moved away from the shadow, ignoring the chill and the fear that danced up her spine as she dried herself off then went to join her husband.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: nightmares, implied incest

The combined warmth of their bodies tugged at Olivia as a prickling awareness pulled her from sleep. She rolled over into Thomas’s warmth. He sighed and pulled her closer. That extrasensory awareness pulled harder on her, shredding the comfort of sleep. Her eyes fluttered open. Terror and panic froze her.  
“Hello, love. Miss me?” Nathaniel grinned at her. His handsome living face became his death masque. “Give us a kiss.” She screamed and threw herself backward out of the bed. Her bottom hit the floor with a solid thud. She scrambled in the direction of the door as he deliberately pushed the covers back and rose from the bed.  
“Thomas!” Her shaking hands fumbled with the doorknob as her dead husband moved steadily closer. She yanked on the door. It finally gave and she turned to run. Her heart stopped at the grisly visage that greeted her. A red and black rotting corpse lurched at her.  
“Olivia! Olivia!” Her eyes snapped open as she sucked in a breath. Thomas cringed at the scream in his face. “Olivia!” He shook her shoulders. She flailed, fighting against the covers and his steely grip on her. “Olivia, it’s me. It’s Thomas.”  
Her chest heaved as she looked up at him. Their positions a horrid parody of the night before. His heavy body weighed her down. The whites of her eyes shown like a rabbit in the hunt. She blinked and finally saw him. “Oh, Thomas.” She dissolved into sobs. “It was horrible.”  
“Darling, it’s alright. I’m here.” He moved off of her but gathered her into his arms. “The nightmares have returned?”  
“I thought I was awake. It felt so real but when I opened my eyes, you were gone. Nathaniel, he- and the corpse. A horrible rotting corpse.”  
Lucille threw open the door. “Is everything alright?” Her long hair settled around her. She hugged a shawl about her shoulders, still in her night gown.  
“Olivia had a nightmare.”  
“Again?” Lucille sat on the bed next to her sister in law.  
“Again?” Thomas looked from his wife to his sister. “What do you mean again?”  
Lucille stroked her hair, a genuine look of concern her face. “You were so busy with the excavator, I didn’t want to trouble you.”  
He tilted her chin. “My darling, you are more important to me than some machine.” His sister stiffened slightly. “How long have they been going on?”  
“Since we moved Michael into his nursery.”  
“Perhaps we should move him back. His presence might be balm for your fear.” His fingertips caressed her cheek from her temple along her jaw. He wanted to kiss her, but Lucille’s ease had faded when he mentioned the machine.  
A loud banging on the front doors let them know that the work men had arrived. “I’ll see to that. You see to your wife.”  
Olivia watched her go. “She hates me, doesn’t she?”  
“No, Lucille is simply hard to win over.” Yet, Thomas could tell a difference in the way his sister treated his wife. She smiled more truly around her. Lucille had made no mention of the poison. He often saw them talking together and their touch was more intimate. He didn’t want to name the feeling crawling around in his chest as jealousy. But it had been so long since he’d been alone with Lucille. Months, possibly. He missed her, but he found he no longer needed their moments alone. Olivia filled that void for him. He glanced at the bite marks on his hand. He’d have to find another alternative to keep her quiet because his palm had become quite sore from it.  
“When we’re alone, I feel like she has warmed to me. But she stiffens and pulls away when you and I are with her.”  
Thomas felt that now perhaps he should tell her. “Olivia-“  
“Look who’s eager for mother.” Lucille strode back into the room, carrying Michael. “The foreman is waiting in the parlor, Thomas.” She stood by the bed as Michael hugged his mother and began to play with her hair. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to leave.  
Thomas frowned. He made the decision to no longer hide his feelings for Olivia. He would deal with Lucille. He tipped his wife’s chin back up and kissed her. A deep but tender kiss and when they pulled apart, he smiled at her with the love he no longer wished to hide.

Olivia wandered over the hillside, Michael and the dog running ahead. She looked back at the house. She could make out Lucille speaking heatedly with Thomas by the door. The prickling awareness that had seized her in the dream drew her attention up. Up to Thomas’s workshop. A woman sat in the window. She raised her hand and smacked the glass, leaving a red hand print.  
She looked back to Michael and couldn’t see him. “Michael? Michael!” She ran in the direction she’d last seen him and dog. “Michael!” The dog began to bark. “Michael!” Thomas ran up to her, Lucille hot on his heels.  
“Olivia, what’s wrong?”  
“I turned for a just a moment and he was gone.” She looked at him with frightened eyes.  
He cupped her cheek. “We will find him.” He looked over her shoulder at Lucille. “Send the workmen out to search for him.”  
“Yes, Thomas.” Lucille ran back toward the machine and the men.  
Thomas and Olivia called for the baby, following the barking dog. She crested the hill before he did. A woman stood over her baby. He lay face down in the red clay. “You there!” Olivia kicked off her slippers and ran full out.  
“Olivia!” Thomas ran after. He didn’t see the woman but Olivia stopped dead in her tracks when she was there one minute then gone the next. Thomas slid in the clay and slammed into her, knocking them both into the clay deposit. She rolled over, panting. The whites of her eyes shone brilliant against the red of the clay smeared on her face. Thomas pulled himself onto his knees and touched her face, smearing clay across her cheek. “Are you alright?”  
“Did you see her?”  
“Who?”  
“The woman. There was a woman.” She scrambled around him, clawing her way through the clay. Michael’s clothes were covered in the red mud, but his face was clean. He cried at being woken up as she picked him up and clutched him to her chest, rocking him.  
“Darling, there was no woman.”  
“There was. There-“ She looked up as the workmen and Lucille came over the hill. “Thomas, there was no way he could have gotten this far in the moment it took me to look away. Someone tried to take him.”  
“Olivia, darling, don’t be hysterical.” He laid his hand on her shoulder but she twisted away.  
“Don’t patronize me, Thomas. I know what I saw.”  
Lucille and Thomas exchanged a look. He didn’t want to tell his sister what she’d said. At least, not until he had more information. “Very well, we’ll discuss this later. After we’ve all cleaned up.” She let him put his arm around her shoulders and escort her into the house.  
He dropped back to speak in hushed tones to his sister, yet he watched his wife and child climb the stairs. “What was that about, Thomas?”  
“Michael wandered off chasing the dog and fell asleep.”  
“But Olivia was upset about something.”  
Another lie he told his sister…when they were never to lie to each other. “She was upset that she lost him.”  
“To be expected. I’ll make her some tea.” Thomas leveled her with a look. “Only tea.”  
His mind was a jumble. He watched his sister disappear into the scullery then took the stairs two at time. Olivia had just stepped into the tub with Michael in her arms when he entered the bathroom. “Darling?”  
“Before you start, Thomas, I know what I saw.” She wouldn’t look at him.  
“I…”He took a deep breath. “I believe you.”  
Her head snapped up. “You do?”  
“Terrible things have happened in this house. Those things leave a mark. Tell me what the woman looked like.” He sat on the riser, watching her face as she cleaned the clay from her baby, turning the water red. Her face scrunched up.  
“I couldn’t see her face. But she had dark hair and stouter figure that my own. The dog seemed to know her.”  
“Enola…”  
“Who?”  
“I…I was married before.” He glanced over his shoulder. The bedroom door was still shut. “I met her in Milan. I’d gone there to find investors but came up short. She…she grew sick and never recovered.”  
“Thomas, why didn’t you tell me?” Olivia smoothed the hair back from his face.  
“I didn’t know what you would think.”  
“Did she…did she die in the house?”  
“She did. Do you think she’s the one from your nightmares?”  
“No…that one is trying to scare me. Enola wanted me to find Michael.”  
Thomas held her hand against his face. “You mustn’t tell Lucille I told you.”  
“Thomas, my darling, why must I keep these things from your sister?”  
He mirrored her touch, staining her face with the red clay again. “Lucille has her own way about things. I am afraid how she would react. And if she hurt you, or Michael-“  
“Would she truly?”  
“ I might have said yes...but the way she looks at you...I don’t know anymore, but I can’t risk it.” He willed her to understand. “I love you, Olivia. You and Michael.” The door to the bedroom opened and in swept Lucille with the tea. Her heels clicked into the room.  
“The tea is in the bedroom. It should warm you up from your romp in the clay.”  
“Thank you, Lucille. Thomas, would you hand me a towel please?”  
Lucille tsked. “Thomas, you’re covered in clay. I’ll get it.” She handed Olivia the towel as her sister in law stood up with the baby. They shared a look that had nothing to do with Thomas or his worries. Lucille had fretted for the baby then Olivia’s hysteria. Whatever charm she had worked over Thomas had begun to work on her.  
Lucille spent her days rolling these feelings over in her mind, in her heart. If she could push away the jealousy, if she could accept sharing her brother, perhaps he would share his wife. She wouldn’t have to put the poison in the tea. They could live together. But her fear prevented her from saying anything. Instead, she stole touches like the one down Olivia’s arm.  
Thomas remained silent but looked up at Lucille. “Drain the water and into the bath with you. I’ll see to dinner.” She held Olivia’s hand as she climbed from the tub. Their fingers brushed each other as they let go. He pretended not to see.  
Olivia set Michael on the floor and leaned over to towel him off. She toweled herself off, feeling her husband’s eyes on her. She let the towel drop then pulled the dressing gown around her. She looked over her shoulder at him. Her pulse tripped. He looked like a creature of supernatural beauty, lounged in the tub the way he was. She leaned down and kissed him, careful not to get clay on her again.  
“I should think my husband’s attention will warm me more than tea.”  
“I should think.” He smirked at her not so veiled proposition. “Perhaps I will make you stars again tonight…”  
“But you must promise to fuck me good and proper.”  
“I promise, my love.” He reached behind her ear, slipping his clean fingers into her hair and pulled her into a demanding kiss. “I promise.”

Olivia sat up in bed, gasping for air. The room was dark, save for the moonlight that filtered through the curtains. She reached for Thomas but he was gone. She threw back the covers and slid from the bed. Her stomach lurched. She staggered barefoot across the room. Her head swam, causing her to bump into the table and knock the set to the floor. The fragile porcelain shattered. She stepped on the pieces cutting the soles of her feet.  
She fell to her knees and crawled to the chamber pot, making it in time before her stomach vomited up its contents. Even after her stomach was empty, she dry heaved into the pot. She collapsed to the floor and lay there, staring up at the ceiling. She saw the shadow move in her peripheral vision. When she turned her head, it was gone. Olivia looked back at the ceiling and the shadow slithered over her.  
Fear gripped her chest, ceasing her breath and her heart. The thing that stared down at her had no face above the rotted nose. It brought a finger to its lips then pressed it to hers. Olivia noticed the ring finger had been cut off. It tittered as it hovered over her. It’s cool touch lingered over the large red stone that Thomas had given her as a wedding ring. The skeletal fingers skittered over her belly. Its non-existent face looked at her. Olivia was so focused on the shadow above her she didn’t see the second crawling toward her until it’s rotten face filled her vision. She sucked in a breath and began to scream.

Thomas buttoned his waistcoat then brushed the hair from his face. His shoes scuffed against the floor as he walked to the elevator. Their argument had been heated, so had everything after. He swallowed down the guilt he felt, the shame. It hadn’t felt empty but it was nothing like it used to be. He felt empty. He heard the screams before the elevator stopped. He cursed himself for leaving her as he slammed the door open and ran for the bedroom.  
“Olivia!” He ran and slid across the carpet, looking over her. “Olivia, are you alright?” He used his shirt to wipe the vomit from her face. “Darling, speak to me.” He pulled her upper body into his lap, turning her face to look at him, making her look at him, see him. “Olivia, love, answer me.” A bubble of panic rose in him. “Lucille!”  
He gently lifted his wife and laid her on the bed. He noticed the broken tea set and the blood on the rug. He smoothed the hair from her face. Her pupils were pinpoint, her pulse thready, not that he was doctor to know what those meant. He leaned down and smelt her breath. Only vomit, not the bittersweet scent of the poison Lucille used.  
“Olivia, please, my love, say something. Anything.” He held her hands in both his and pressed them to his lips. He let her go and stalked to the door. “Lucille!” The elevator began to move. He looked up and did a double take. He could have sworn he’d seen…no, it couldn’t be. “Lucille!” He returned to the bed. “Olivia, it’s Thomas. Darling, you’re scaring me.” He brought his face close to hers, tears slid down his cheek.  
His sister swept into the room. “What is it?”  
“What have you done!” She took in the room. The broken tea set, the vomit in the chamber pot, Olivia’s bloody feet and her wide-eyed, glassy expression, and most of all, her brother. He was a force of nature. She could feel his rage and betrayal beat against her. “You promised you wouldn’t!”  
“I swear, Thomas, I didn’t. Just a drop of laudanum to help her sleep.”  
He came up on his sister and grabbed her by the throat. “You swear!”  
Lucille’s eyes widened. She’d never seen him this way. He’d been complacent, indifferent almost, with the others. Not with Olivia. “I swear, Thomas. Only a drop.” He let her go and went back to his wife. “It was only to help her sleep.”  
“Don’t lie to yourself as well as me. You know what it was for.” He sat next to his wife, his hands like fluttering birds touching her, trying to find the cause of her catatonia.  
“I’ll tend to her feet.” She ducked into the bathroom. It had only been a drop. She needed him. She missed him. She couldn’t lie to herself. They’d been married seven months. They loved each other. They had fucked, of that she was sure. Jealousy swelled in her belly. Not just for Olivia but for Thomas as well.  
Thomas had changed into his night shirt and had changed Olivia’s night dress. He sat beside her, brushing her hair out on the pillows. Lucille sat on the foot of the bed and began to pull out the glass. She wiped the blood away then bandaged her feet. Her fingertips lingered over Olivia’s toes. When she looked up at her brother, he was watching her. So was Olivia. Apprehension slithered behind her eyes, fear and hurt.  
Lucille’s gut twisted with guilt and worry. These feelings were alien. She’d only ever loved Thomas. He was the only one that ever mattered. She felt so confused. Lucille crawled up the bed and lay down beside her sister in law, laying her head on her shoulder. “It was only a drop of laudanum.” Olivia smoothed her hair. Thomas lay on the other side of his wife, resting his lips against her temple. He locked his fingers with her other hand and wrapped his leg around hers. He couldn’t be sure if it was more for her comfort or his.


	9. Chapter 9

Lucille looked around at the boxes and furniture cluttering up the foyer. She pulled the muffler off her hands, agitated. Her pace quickened into the sitting room as she heard Thomas and Olivia talking excitedly.  
“What is all this?”  
“The last of my and Michael’s belongings from the estate.” Michael sat on the rocking horse in front of the fire. Lucille became distracted from her ire. Her son would have been a tad older than Michael. The sight of him on Thomas’s creation plucked her heart bittersweetly. Olivia crossed the room to her and touched her face. “Lu, what’s wrong?”  
Lucille swallowed and shook her head. “Nothing, it’s nothing, Olivia. Just painful memories.” Olivia’s thumb caressed her cheek. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” Lucille held her hand against Olivia’s.  
Thomas walked up behind Olivia and placed his hands on her waist, his sad smile visible only to his sister. “I’ll fix us some tea.”  
Lucille handed off the mail to her brother as he passed, squeezing her arm. “Olivia, what are you planning on doing with everything in the hall?”  
“Well, Michael’s things may be taken to his room. Thomas has agreed to set up a play room next to his bedroom.”  
“He has…”  
“Yes, we both agreed that with his workshop in the attic now, that would work out better.”  
“What else has my brother agreed to?”  
“Does that upset you?” Olivia twisted her hands. “Thomas said you were protective of the house. I-I didn’t think taking up another room or two would bother you. Especially when there are so many of them and so few of us.”  
Lucille looked away to the snow falling outside the window. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I’m just not a lover of change. Yes, Michael can have the room next to his for a play room. “  
Olivia kissed Lucille’s cheek. Her lips drew a line to Lucille’s ear where she placed another. “So sad, my cherry. Let me kiss it better.” Lucille sucked in a breath. Olivia kissed her lips as she turned her head. Lucille stiffened, but her sister-in-law’s lips pressed firm and warm against her. She gasped at the tease of tongue along her bottom lip. Olivia’s tongue stole inside, coaxing Lucille’s to life. She closed her eyes as they melted together. Olivia’s fingers toyed with Lucille’s up-do. Lucille smiled; mother and son shared the same habit.  
Olivia stepped into Lucille, putting her knee between her legs. Despite herself, Lucille moaned as her brother’s wife caressed her side then cupped her breast. She broke the kiss, blush coloring her a dark red. Their foreheads pressed together. Thomas cleared his throat from the door.  
“How long have you been standing there?” Lucille pulled away and turned away, putting up her walls of fear.  
“Not long.” But long enough. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit the sight of his wife and his sister didn’t ignite a fire in him. But down that road was only pain. “It pleases me to see you growing close. I had worried.”  
Olivia let her hands fall. She tried to hide her hurt at Lucille’s rejection in front of Thomas. She swallowed and put a smile on her face as she turned to her husband, but he caught the hurt in her eyes. “It’s almost the holidays. Let’s decorate the common areas.”  
“Olivia,-“  
“Oh please, Thomas. Warmth and love to combat the cold and barren death of the year.” He smiled at her excitement.  
“Very well, my darling. How about it, Lucille?” He beamed at his wife then turned that hopeful smile on his sister. She looked from Olivia and Thomas to the toddler sucking his thumb and blissfully riding his horse. She sighed.  
“I suppose we should attempt holiday cheer for the child.”  
Olivia laughed. “Oh Lu, so stern and distant, surely your heart would be warmed by our love.” Lucille looked at her brother and his wife in each other’s arms. Jealousy and that dark prickling possession of everything that was her world niggled at her want and need to be loved and wanted by both.

Thomas sat at his work bench, bent over the detailed sketches for his excavator and the working model on the desk. Swiftly running feet brought his head up. “Papa! Papa!” Michael latched onto Thomas’s leg. He smiled as he drew the boy up into his lap. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d thought he’d never be called that word. Up until the boy had actually said it, he’d never had a desire to be called it. Now, it brought a smile to his face.  
“What are you doing up here, my strong boy?”  
“Papa, night night.”  
Olivia smiled, the sweet scene before her warming her heart. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “He wants you to put him to bed.”  
Yet once on his father’s lap, all thoughts of sleep left the boy in his night shirt. He reached for the model. “Whasat, papa! Whasat!”  
“Michael, not so loud, son. I’m right here.” Thomas settled him fully on his lap. “Let me show you.” Olivia leaned against a work table, watching her two loves. Thomas didn’t talk to Michael like he was only her son. Michael was their son. And he didn’t talk to him like a baby or patronize his curiosity. He explained as simply as he could how the model worked. The toddler likely didn’t understand but one day he would. “And if the snow stops and mummy will allow it, I’ll take you out to the full scale one tomorrow.”  
“Is it working?”  
“With snow falling as rapidly as it is, I’ve had to stop work on it.” He sighed, weary with frustration and disappointment. “If only my parts had come in before the snow. It might be working by now.”  
Olivia went to him, caressing his cheek. He looked up at her. “You, my husband, are the smartest man I know. You will make it work and you will make the world notice you.”  
“The most important person already has.”  
She leaned down and kissed him tenderly. “I love you, Sir Sharpe.”  
“I love you, Lady Sharpe.” He pressed his face into her belly, breathing in the scent of her. “Let’s put this young sir to bed.”  
She shook her head. “Oh no, he was adamant about his papa putting him to bed.”  
He stood, picking the boy up and holding him against his chest. “Then his papa shall. Wait here for me, there’s something I want to show you.” He kissed the corner of her mouth then left her alone in the workshop. The wind howled against the windows, spinning snow against them. She looked out into the dark sky. Someone walked into the room, reflected in the glass.  
“Lu, come keep me warm.” She turned around to an empty workshop. She thought she saw the tail end of a dress slipping out of the door frame. “Are we playing cat and mouse, my sweet cherry?” Olivia’s slippered feet made soft scuffing sounds across the floor. The elevator lowered, going all the way to the bottom then returned.  
Olivia bit her lip. Thomas had asked her to wait here. And he’d also warned her against going below the main floor of the house. Before she could change her mind, she stepped onto the elevator and pushed the lever to the last arrow. As she passed the main floor, Lucille’s piano began in the sitting room.  
A red haze filled the lower level. Ore oozed through the earthen walls. The dim light offered little to no illumination. Olivia pressed herself back against the elevator. She tried to send the elevator back up to the attic, but the lever wouldn’t move. The door opened on its own, yet she still didn’t move. A shadow scampered at the far end of the pits. “Lucille? Lu, please, come out.” The shadow moved again. “Darling, let’s play hide and seek somewhere else.” Again, the shadow moved.  
Olivia stepped off the elevator, growing impatient. She strode up the center aisle. “Alright, I’m out of the elevator. Come out.” The shadow darted out of her peripheral vision. She turned around quickly and practically fell over the steamer trunk. “What on earth?” The lids on the pits began to rattle. Olivia backed up against the wall, falling over stacks of emptied luggage in different stages of disrepair. Her natural curiosity got the better of her fear. She inspected the luggage, noticing three different sets of initials, P.U., M.M. and E.S. The trunk was branded with an E.S. above the side handle. This must belong to Thomas’s late wife.  
The rattling grew louder and more aggressive. Olivia pushed the luggage from her mind and pressed herself into the earth wall, moving to the farthest point away from the pits. A rush of cold air slapped her face. She gasped and turned in the direction of it, backing away but closer to the pits. Shadows darted in her peripheral vision. The cold slapped her face again. This time she felt warmth on her cheek. She reached up to touch it lightly and came away with blood on her fingers.  
Fear swelled in her and she started for the elevator, drawing in on herself to keep away from the pits. The lids stopped rattling when the elevator door closed the lift ascended without her. “Lucille? This isn’t funny anymore.”  
The scrape of metal on stone made her still. She turned slowly. The lid to the closest pit fell off the back. She swallowed and took a step. Her toe caught the edge of the drain trough and she fell against the edge of the pit. The red liquid clay began to bubble, like when a fish swam just below the surface of the pond at the manor.  
A skeletal red face broke the surface. “O...li...via…” It hissed her name then grabbed her with rotten fingers and jerked her into the viscous clay. Her shout cut off as clay filled her mouth and nose, forced her eyes to close. She kicked against the sludge and pulled on the bony hands the held her shawl. She broke the surface, spurting out red clay, and sucked in a lungful of air as she reached for the side. “THOMAS!” The skeletal figure barely surfaced and pulled her down again.

Thomas brushed the strawberry blonde hair from the boy’s forehead. He’d fallen asleep quickly, barely hearing three full pages of his story. He pulled the door shut behind him and climbed the stairs to his attic workshop.  
“Darling, I’m tired. Do you mind if I show you tomorrow?” He pushed the door open to find the workshop empty. The elevator came to stop. “Olivia?” He stepped out into the hall. No answer. With a sigh, he stalked down the hall to the elevator, frowning when he found it empty. He heard his name shrieked in a terrified panic up the shaft.  
He threw back the door and forced the stubborn lever down. The elevator shuddered in protest before it descended to the pits. He couldn’t believe his eyes or ears. The lids rattled and jumped. His eyes widened in panic. Olivia broke the surface, choking and spurting. “Thomas!” She reached blindly in his direction before she was jerked down again.  
Thomas shoved his arms into the red ooze and felt for her. He found her hand and pulled but met resistance. She must have been caught on something. His other hand seized her wrist and griped tightly. Olivia held her breath around a mouthful of clay. Her lungs screamed for air. She distantly felt hands grab hers. He grunted and braced his feet on the wall of the pit. Whatever held her broke free. He drug her over the edge of the wall, and the both of them fell to the tile floor.  
“Olivia. Oh god.” He wiped her face as best he could. His heart stopped as clay seeped from between her lips. He rolled her onto her side and scooped out her mouth. His strong hands beat her back, expelling clay in projectile spurts. “Don’t die on me.” He rolled her onto her back and listened to her whistling breathing. He moved his ear to her chest and listened to the slow thump of her heart. “You can’t leave me, Livi. I love you.” He wasn’t conscious of the tears streaming down his face, nor the shadows deepening around them.  
Thomas rolled her onto her side and beat her back again. The clay didn’t come with quite so much force. Perhaps if he pushed on the abdomen he could make her vomit. He pushed on her belly but it made no difference. He growled in frustration, sobbing loudly. “Think, damn you. Think!” Again, he rolled her onto her side, bracing his knees against her back. “Please work. I can’t lose her. I can’t.” He shoved his fingers down her throat. Her throat convulsed then her abdomen clenched. She drew in on herself as her body vomited up a belly full of liquid clay. “Oh thank God.”  
Olivia coughed and spurted, her breath whistling but becoming stronger. “Thomas?”  
“I’m here, my love.” He kept her on her side but looked the length of her body. His frown deepened as he spotted something sticking out from her dress. He lifted her skirt. To his disgust and dismay, she’d caught on one of the bodies. As he tried to pull off the hand, he discovered it wrapped around her ankle. He gave jerk and the fingers fell loose. He tossed it back into the pit. He’d send Lucille down to replace the lid. When her coughing and heaving slowed, he gathered her into his arms and carried her up to their room. Lucille’s piano music continued from the sitting room.  
He set her on her feet. His handsome face set in angry lines. “Thomas-“  
He grabbed her chin and made her face him. They could feel each other shaking, fear and adrenaline reacting in very different ways in the both of them. “I thought I told you to never go to the lower level.”  
“You did, but-“  
“You could have died.” He roughly undressed her, leaving her shivering and red-streaked. “I can’t lose you.” He cupped her face and held it up to him. Her wide, terrified eyes shone white and filled with tears. His worried and fearful eyes met hers just as strongly. “Why did you go down there?”  
“I thought I saw Lucille take the elevator. I thought she wanted to play. But that’s not what happened.”  
Thomas left her shivering, naked in the middle of the room as he turned the water on. He stripped himself then lifted her into his arms and stepped into the tub. “Tell me. Tell me what happened. Because I can’t explain what I saw.”  
Thomas focused on taking care of the woman he loved as she told him what happened from the time she left the workshop. He scrubbed the clay from her alabaster skin. When the water had turned red, he drained it and filled the tub a second time. Olivia was thankful of his strong, comforting hands on her as she relived the last moments. He lay back in the tub and held her tightly against his chest.  
“Who was she, Thomas?”  
“Margaret…”  
“Another wife you never told me about?” She wasn’t accusatory nor angry. She was exhausted and hurt.  
“You said once before, we all have our secrets.”  
“Secrets don’t try to drown you in clay, my love.” Her love…she still loved him, despite his omissions. “Why did she try to kill me?”  
“Because I love you. I never loved her. She was a means to an end.”  
“Money?”  
Thomas squeezed her tighter. “Yes, to bring the excavator to life.”  
Olivia stared up at the ceiling, reliving the moment when the woman in the clay had hissed her name and whispered horrific things into her mind. “Did you kill her?”  
“I did not.” He sighed. “I just didn’t stop it.”  
“So Lucille, then?” He swallowed. This wasn’t his sin to confess. But he couldn’t, and wouldn’t for that matter lie to her, not anymore, never again. “Thomas, answer me.” Again, not angry only tired.  
“Yes…”  
“How?”  
Thomas pressed his face into the crook of her neck. She hadn’t stiffened against him or pulled away from him. “Lucille hit her over the head then dropped her in the pit. We dropped her in the pit. She must have still been alive and drowned in the clay.”  
“And you didn’t love her.”  
“No.”  
“And Enola? Did you love her?”  
He sighed, brushing her hair from her neck so that he could kiss the bite mark there. “No, I did not.”  
Olivia’s mind swirled with the things the aberration told her in the clay, with Thomas’s answer and with more questions. She closed her eyes and curled her body into his, letting the heat of the water and the heat of his body warm. “Am I to be done away with?”  
“No.”  
“Michael?”  
“No! Olivia, you must believe me.” He lifted her chin. “I will never let her harm you.”  
“So that was the plan? Seduce me, marry me and take my money then kill me? What of Michael?”  
“You were never part of the plan.”  
“Convince me, Thomas. Because I feel I should take our son and flee into the dark and snow.”  
“Don’t leave me.” He choked on his breath. He looked her in the eyes, laid himself bare. “I need you. Lucille needs you.”  
“I’m not so certain of that.” He kissed her to prevent either of them from saying anything more.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Olivia holiday to London before Christmas.

Olivia vomited up red clay for days after the incident in the pits. But even after she’d passed the last of it, she continued to vomit frequently. Lucille swore to Thomas that she wasn’t poisoning her, but he wasn’t convinced.  
“Olivia! Are you ready, my darling?”  
“Just about.” She pinned the hat to her curls and grabbed her muffler. Michael and Thomas stood at the door, two dark splotches against the white of the snow behind her. “You’ll be alright without us for a few days, Lucille?”  
“I will manage.” Lucille had hugged and kissed her brother before his wife had come down. He’d promised they’d only be gone a few days and would be back for Christmas. She glanced at the barren tree in the corner of the parlor.  
“I’ll miss you, Lu.” Olivia kissed the corner of her mouth. “I wish you’d come with us. We could keep Silas from propositioning you.”  
“It’s fine. I will be fine. Just return to me in one piece. All of you.” She called the last over her shoulder at Thomas, smiling slightly. Olivia surprised brother and sister when she kissed that smile full on the lips. Lucille surprised herself as she gave into it, parting her lips and tasting the sherry on her sister-in-law’s tongue. Thomas raised an eyebrow then led Michael out into the snow, before the kiss broke and he would be expected to have a reaction. “Olivia, why-“  
“Because I love you. And I wanted you to know I’m not afraid of Thomas’s judgement. See you in a few days, my sweet cherry.” Olivia pecked her on the lips then hurried off into the brilliant snow white morning.  
Thomas helped her into the carriage. She checked to make sure Michael was protected from the majority of the wind then sat down on the seat. He settled against her. “What was that about?”  
“Don’t play naïve, my husband. Perhaps if I’m open with my affections, she’ll be less likely to get rid of me.” She had a point and Thomas had thought as much. Olivia tucked the blanket around them then reached under. “Besides…I think you liked it, my Thomas.” Her hand closed around his crotch and beginning bulge as the carriage began to move. He looked down at his wife. She was unbelievable sometimes.  
Thomas swallowed, shifting on the seat as she rubbed his cock to life. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.” He kissed her, tasting both the women he loved on her tongue. “But if you keep that up, we’ll not make it to the train before I have to have you.” She giggled, the little minx. He seized her bottom lip between his teeth. Her giggle became a gasp.  
“Mama! Papa!” Michael stood on the seat, facing forward. His face was lit with pure joy as he watched the horses trot. Thomas looked away from their son first to see the joy on her face. Did he want another child? Did Olivia? Would Lucille accept it? She looked up into his face, smiling. All his questions fell away with the happiness in her eyes. She positively glowed.

Olivia's hand slapped the fogged glass of their cabin as she tried to steady herself on her knees with the motion of the train. Thomas looked at her reflection in the darkened glass. Her pinned hair disheveled, her face flushed were he’d kissed her cunt, her eyes hooded with need and desire. His own need coiled in his belly. He couldn’t explain the electric current shooting through him as he grazed his teeth down her spine through the lavender satin dress.  
“Please, Thomas, I need you!”  
“Yes, my darling.” He braced a knee on the bench seat, positioning himself behind her. She trembled when he touched her dripping cunt. He swallowed down his anticipation as he teased her slit with the head of his cock. She whimpered and pushed back toward him. He watched himself disappear inside her then looked to her reflection. Her knuckles were white with the pressure she put against the glass. Her face was knotted in a mix of pleasure and pain. He breathed through his nose as he tried not to lose control.  
Olivia loved him with her body as ardently as she loved him with her heart and soul. She loved fucking him and him fucking her, and she wasn’t afraid to show it. Why be ashamed of how good their love made her feel, she had said to him once. Her love made him come undone. He would do anything for her, for that love. When she groaned, “Fuck me, Thomas”, he did. He was afraid he’d hurt her, but he gave her what she wanted.  
His thighs trembled as he pounded into her, his nails scraping against the satin as he clawed at her back, trying to hang onto her. Her shouts grew louder. Without thinking, he tore the cravat from his throat and shoved it into her open mouth. “There, my pretty one, scream as loud as you want.” And scream, she did. The muffled sounds drove into him as she bent and arched like a cat in heat. He grabbed her hair and pulled her up, bending her back almost painfully. He sunk his teeth into her neck, sending her over the edge. Her body clamped down on him, taking his breath. He released his teeth and threw his head back, groaning his release to the ceiling.  
The train whistled and lurched to a stop, toppling them into the opposite seat. The air left him as his wife landed on his belly, narrowly missing bending his cock. He brushed the hair from her face as he pulled the satin from between her lips. “I think I found the savior of my hand.”  
“You must wear it.”  
“Of course, my love.” They fussed over each other’s clothing, making sure they were presentable before Olivia fetched the baby from the next cabin. He didn’t wake when she picked him up and cuddled him against her breast. Thomas tucked in the cravat and looked up as she stepped back into the cabin. His heart stopped. He found a growing desire to make her a mother again. He wanted to kiss her growing belly and know that this child would survive.

Aunt Marian hurried to the door as the servants brought in the minimal luggage. She watched from the open door as Thomas helped her niece down from the carriage then lifted the baby into his arms. She hugged Olivia tightly and kissed her chilled cheek.  
“A happy marriage suits you.”  
“It would suit you too, dearest aunt.”  
“Hush, child, I love my Silas.”  
Olivia looked up at her husband. “Not as much as I love my Thomas.” He grinned down at her then bent to kiss her lips.  
“Papa, hat.” Michael smacked the top hat on Thomas’s head and giggled.  
“Very well, my boy but it’s much too big. You’ll have to grow some more.” He doffed his hat to Marian then kissed her cheek. He smiled at his son before dropping the hat on his head. The boy giggled as it covered his face.  
“I assume you want Michael in his old nursery.”  
“If you would, Aunt Marian.”  
“Of course.”  
“Thomas, my good man!” Silas blustered into the room, red faced from the whiskey in his hand.  
“Silas, wonderful to see you.”  
The men clasped hands and shook firmly. “Just the three of you then? Lady Lucille didn’t join you?”  
“No, I’m afraid she chose to stay at Allerdale.”  
“Pity, she’s always welcome here.”  
“I think she’s afraid Uncle Silas will try to marry her off.” Marian and Olivia giggled, tactfully ignoring the flint in Silas’s eyes.  
“You two getting on then?”  
“Splendidly. Oh Aunt Marian, she has the most beautiful singing voice. And to think, Thomas got to hear all while he was growing up.”  
“I was a very lucky lad. Speaking of lucky lads, I promised Michael a biscuit in the carriage for being such a good boy on the trip.” Thomas popped the hat that the toddler held back down and made him giggle more.  
“I’ll take you to the kitchen, my love. I’m sure Annie has a good sweet or two.” The Sharpes handed off their coats and mufflers then disappeared into the kitchen. Marian and Silas looked after them, both jealous of their happiness for very different reasons.  
“You’re not going to tell her about the Upton woman, are you, Silas?”  
“I want to know what he has to say about it first.”

“Settling into married life nicely, eh Sharpe?” Silas handed him a tumbler of Irish whiskey.  
“Splendidly.”  
Silas rolled his cigar back and forth between his fingers as he walked to the pair of chairs by the fire. He’d watched the couple all day. They truly seemed to love each despite the secrets in their pasts. Did he dare upset the apple cart? Eight months married and the boy called him ‘papa’, yet no visible pregnancy.  
“Tell me, Thomas, do you enjoy being a father?”  
“Unexpectedly, yes. And a husband. Between those duties and my engineering, my days are quite busy.”  
“Have you gotten the excavator working?”  
“The snow hit before I had the chance to install the new parts.”  
“Pity, I’ve lined up some investors for when that time comes.”  
“Excellent, Silas. That’s wonderful news.”  
The big man glanced at his niece’s husband over the rim of his glass as he sipped his whiskey. He flicked his ash at the fire then stabbed the cigar in his mouth. “Plan on having any more children?”  
Thomas shifted in the seat and twisted the glass back and forth with his fingers. “Olivia and I haven’t really discussed it, but I don’t think either of us are opposed to the idea.”  
“Bit of advice, the girl goes a touch crazy when she’s got a bun in the oven.”  
“I’m sure I can handle that.” He had handled Lucille after all. No one would call her completely sane if they truly knew her like he did.  
Silas chuckled as his assurance. “Very well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  
Thomas knocked back the whiskey. “Speaking of my wife, I should get to bed.” Thomas stood up and walked to the side board, setting his glass on the tray.  
“Before you go, one more thing.” Thomas turned to face the man. “Who is Pamela Upton?” Silas grinned at his nephew in law’s sudden stillness, the purposeful blankness of his face. “Don’t worry, Sharpe. Not many know about her. But why don’t you tell me who she is.”  
“She’s nobody.”  
“I beg to differ. I have a document in my possession that says otherwise.” Silas grinned to himself. “I paid a fair some of money to have it disappear from public record.”  
“That’s why Olivia and I were able to marry without incident. I had wondered.”  
“But you didn’t care enough to investigate further. Was it her bank account or her cunt that had you blinded?”  
“That’s my wife you’re speaking about.”  
“Please, if anything, I have you for polygamy and fraud so save your offense for the constable.”  
Thomas towered over him in the chair. “What do you want?”  
“Once you have investors, I want 15% of the excavator. Anymore would too obvious. And you will pay me back the sum I paid to make that document disappear.”  
“And once it’s paid?”  
“I’ll give it to you to do with as you see fit.”  
“Very well, let me know the amount before we return to Cumbria and I’ll see you have it before we return home.”  
“So quickly? You don’t want to cover your tracks a little better, Sharpe?”  
“Don’t worry yourself over my tracks.” Thomas shut the door firmly then ascended the stairs.   
Marian watched him until he was out of sight then slipped into her husband’s study. “What did he say?”  
Silas sighed. “He agreed to my terms. Surprisingly quickly.”  
“You don’t think she knows, do you?”  
“No, she doesn’t. He wouldn’t be paying me for that piece of paper if she did. I just don’t know why he’s paying me.”  
“Whatever the cause, he is. Are you going to tell her?”  
“No, she’s happy and out of this house.”  
“But-“  
“But nothing, Marian. Go to bed. I’m going to the club.” He slugged back his whiskey and brushed past his wife.


	11. Chapter 11

Lucille’s anxiety had reached its tolerable point. Anything past it would result in an episode. Thomas had sent word the day before that they’d be arriving today. But as morning stretched into afternoon and the sun dropped lower in the grey sky, she began to panic. The rot inside her head told her that they’d lied and ran away together, never to return. That they’d left her destitute and abandoned in a rotting, sinking house.  
Sleigh bells announced the carriage’s arrival. The driver unloaded their luggage as Thomas helped Olivia down. Michael took off in the reddened snow for the door, carrying a prettily wrapped box. “Michael! Wait a minute, son!”  
His excited hands banged on the door. “Anloo! Anloo!” Olivia shouldered the door open for her husband and the driver to bring in the luggage and the presents. “Anloo! Anloo!” Michael tracked the red snow into the sitting room and shoved the present at his aunt where she sat on the piano bench.  
She laughed, her darkness fading with his excitement. “What is this?”  
“Papa-mumma-me! Pwesnt, Anloo.” He pushed it into her hands. Olivia unwrapped the scarf from her pinned hair and tossed her muffler onto the sofa.  
“We stopped to get you something, Lu.” She crossed from the table to the bench. Lucille looked up at her, struggling with the longing and how much she had missed her sister in law. Olivia sensed her apprehension and solved her puzzlement with a kiss. A soft press of lips to hers that broke quickly, followed by a firmer press and an open mouth. They pulled away at the shutting of the grand front door. Thomas smiled at the women he loved as he came into the room. Michael ran out of the room in search of the dog, barking in an attempt to get its attention. Olivia moved away from the piano as he came closer, shrugging out of her coat. Her attention focused on the tree.  
Lucille rose from the piano and hugged her brother tightly. He returned the hug but not with the desperation that she did. He kissed her cheek tenderly. Lucille closed her eyes and leaned into it then turned and took his lips, surprising him. He returned her kiss but pulled away before Olivia caught them.  
She turned to face brother and sister. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Should we wait to decorate the tree or begin now?”  
“We haven’t any decorations, sister.”  
Olivia grinned. “But we do! There are some in the crates from the estate. Nathaniel didn’t like the holiday.” She swept her gaze away from the pair to the fire then back to the tree, attempting to push the darkness away.  
“Darling, we’ve had a long journey. Let’s wait to decorate until tomorrow. I’ll bring down the crates for you and we’ll all decorate together.” She startled, lost in the past, when he wrapped his arms around her. “Olivia?” He turned her. “Are you alright?”  
She swallowed and nodded. “I’m fine. Just tired…long journey, remember?” He smiled, taking her chin between his fingers and turning her face up.  
“You should take a hot bath and go to bed early. Leave Michael to me.” Again, she swallowed and nodded. He noticed the tears glistening in her eyes. “You can tell me whatever it is that brings these tears to your eyes.”  
Olivia opened her mouth to speak then closed it. “I can’t. Not right now.” His thumb caressed her cheek and he kissed her once more. He wanted to press her to confess her sins to him. The sooner they excised the thorns from their sides, the sooner they could heal and move on.

Thomas stared up at the ceiling, his arm tucked behind his head. Lucille breathed in through her nose then sighed as she rolled away from him. He brought his arm down, watching her for movement. When he was satisfied she was asleep, he sat up. He raked his fingers through his hair then ruffled it. Thomas swallowed then looked back over his shoulder at her. He couldn’t do this again. He’d grown accustomed to their forbidden love over the years because it was all the love he’d ever known. But it hurt him in ways he couldn’t name for himself, filled him with shame, guilt and self-hatred. And if Olivia ever found out…would she leave him? Would she take their son and flee this decrepit edifice?  
No, he couldn’t let that happen. So therefore, this could not, and would not, happen again. He would placate Lucille with kisses and excuses. Lost in thought, he pulled on his trousers and grabbed his shoes, throwing his shirt and waistcoat over his arm. He left the warmth of his sister’s bed and trod barefoot out into the attic. A shadow moved in his peripheral vision. “Olivia?” He could explain his presence in the attic with working late in the workshop, now that he wasn’t near Lucille’s room anymore.  
The shadow moved and he followed it out to the hall. She climbed onto the banister. “Olivia, no!” He knew it to be rotted and would break and send her to the floor three stories below. He darted for her, but she wasn’t there anymore. He whipped around, looking for her frantically. She wasn’t broken on the floor nor was she hiding anywhere in the hall.  
He kept looking over his shoulder as he hurried to their bedroom, the master bedroom. Stopping to look in on Michael, he found the boy sleeping peacefully, his sweet face illuminated in a beam of moonlight. He pulled the door shut. The boy had begun to climb out of the crib. This was safer. He could wake and play until one of the adults came to get him for breakfast. A shadow moved by the bedroom door. “Olivia? My love, are you awake?” He stalked to their bedroom door and pushed it open. She was on her knees, vomiting into the chamber pot. “Darling, what’s wrong?”  
Olivia reached for him and he pulled her up easily. “My stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies.” She swallowed. “I need to rinse my mouth.” He held her elbow as she gingerly walked to the bathroom sink. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “It’s awfully cold in the house to be wandering around it half-dressed, husband.”  
“I was in the workshop late. I wanted a bath, but I didn’t want to wake you with excess movement in the room.” She leveled him with a look and raised her eyebrow. He didn’t admit to anything and she didn’t call him out on the horrible lie.  
“Help me back to bed then you take your bath.”  
“Yes, my darling.” He tucked the blankets around her and brushed the hair from her face. “Why are you sick?” His handsome face looked on her beautiful one with fear and worry. He would question Lucille in the morning. His wife’s breath didn’t have the poison’s telltale smell, nor was there blood in her vomit. She was also not coughing up blood. There had to be an explanation to her illness.  
She shrugged. “It’s nature. I’ll be right as rain before too long.” He kissed her, worry coiling itself around his heart. Lucille had sworn she wasn’t poisoning her, but the vomiting didn’t stop. “Don’t be too long. I need you to keep me warm.”  
Thomas wasn’t long at all. He washed the scent and the feel of Lucille from his skin then joined his wife in bed. She rolled into his warmth and he wrapped himself around her, breathing her in. Olivia had become a balm for his guilt, his shame. She gave him hope that the future, their future, might not be so bleak. He closed his eyes, but sleep wanted nothing of him. Dreams of losing her just out of his reach plagued him. He jerked awake each time as he lost her. The last one, he jerked so hard he woke her up.  
“Thomas? Are you alright?”  
“Bad dreams, my love. Go back to sleep.” She drew in a breath and cuddled closer. He closed his eyes but didn’t try to fall asleep again. His eyebrow rose as her delicate hand slipped down his taut stomach to palm his flaccid cock. “That’s not going back to sleep…” He sighed and tilted his hips forward and back as her fondling brought his cock to life.  
Olivia leaned up and kissed him, exploring his mouth with her tongue as she stroked his growing cock beneath the coverlet. His large hands covered her breasts. They felt bigger, fuller in his hands. He groaned and kneaded them.  
When she broke the kiss, he was panting, thrusting into her hand. “I need you.” He urged her on top of him. She tucked her feet between his and settled down the length of his cock. She was tight and nearly dry with no play beforehand. Her face pinched with the jolts of pain on the back of pleasure until her cunt stretched to fit him and dripped down his balls.  
His jaw jutted forward. He looked up at her, disbelieving again that he’d found her. That she’d saved him. He braced his feet on the bed and met her downward slide with upward thrusts. She moved her hips in a circle as she came down and he shouted, surprised at the sensation. He held her hips, making their movements shorter and quicker. Olivia dug her nails into his chest. He hissed as she broke the skin then rolled them over onto her back.  
“Bleed me, my love.” He spread her thighs wide and pounded into her. She clawed his back as he kissed her screams away. When they were spent, he held her against his chest, breathing heavily. “I see you’re feeling better.”  
Olivia kissed him chest repeatedly, moving up to the hollow of his throat. “I told you, my darling, right as rain.”

Lucille had woken up alone. This had become common place over the last eight months. But it still stung when she fell asleep with Thomas and woke up alone. She dressed and headed downstairs to begin breakfast. It was on the second floor she heard the shouts. Her gut twisted. Was he-? Were they-? Jealousy and rage fired in her. She ran to the room, planning to burst through the doors and tear them apart. But the rage faded as she stood outside the door, listening to bed creak. The lewd sound of their flesh coming together wetly, their groans and shouts coiled like a viper in her belly. Jealousy and anger merged with excitement in the dropping in her belly. She licked her lips as she touched the door. Her fingertips caressed the wood like a lover as she crouched to look in the key hole.  
Her breath caught in her throat. His back glistened with sweat and blood as it flexed with his thrusts. Her legs trembled as she watched them fuck, wetness pooled between them. She hated them both in the moment, yet she loved them both. She longed to be in that bed with them, perhaps sat facing Thomas as he kissed her mouth and Olivia kissed her other mouth.  
A spike of lust drove into her at these foreign desires and conflicting thoughts. Thomas rolled off his wife, breathing heavily. His cock glistened in the morning light with his wife’s cum. Olivia lay panting, her legs spread open. Lucille sucked in a breath at the sight on her sister in law’s cunt, dripping with the evidence of lovemaking. With a growl, he pulled her against him.  
Lucille finally looked away. Her face flared a deep blush. She scraped her nails along the banister. Her emotions warred in her heart and in her head as she descended the stairs to scullery. A numbness overtook her as she stoked the cook fire and added coal to the stove. She couldn’t name all the emotions that twisted her up. Jealousy, hurt, rage, need…want… desire…  
She leaned up against the wall by the open oven and lifted her skirt. Her trembling fingers found her cunt wet and warm. She coaxed the bundle of nerves above her opening and pinched it. She closed her eyes and licked her lips as she rubbed her thumb over her clit. Her shoulders hunched as she used her other hand to slide two fingers inside her. Quick. She had to be quick. She couldn’t explain her state to either of them if they should find her. Her body trembled as she strangled her cry and came on her fingers. Now, she could add shame to that list of emotion. Shame and embarrassment…

“Papa! I help!” Michael reached from the crates as Thomas carried them into the sitting room. Olivia had strung garlands and hung wreaths all around the room. She’d even laid a lovely tapestry over the back of the sofa.  
“Alright, son, alright. Let me put these down.”  
“Anloo help too!”  
“Michael, there’s no need to shout.” Thomas lifted the boy up. He’d noticed as their son became more vocal, he shouted. At first, he’d thought this to be normal exuberance of a child learning to talk. But after witnessing young Michael interacting with other children while in London, he began to question. “Son, are you having trouble hearing?” He wasn’t sure the boy understood his question. Thomas snapped his fingers on the right side of Michael’s head, but he made no indication he heard them. He snapped his fingers on the left side and Michael reached for them, trying to find the sound.  
Olivia gaped at her husband. She’d never thought to check his hearing. She just thought he liked to be loud. Thomas looked at his wife, concerned. She carefully laid down the garland she’d been hanging and excused herself.  
“Wait here, Michael.” Thomas made sure his son acknowledged him before he followed her out into the foyer. Her soft sobs gave her away on the stairs. He climbed them slowly. “Olivia?” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. He approached her as he would have a caged animal. “Are you alright, darling?”  
“It’s my fault, Thomas.”  
“What’s your fault?” He sat next to her and laid his arm over her shoulders. She shrugged out from under it and curled away from him, in on herself against the banister. His dream of the banister breaking and her falling flashed to his mind and he tugged at her. “Olivia?”  
She couldn’t tell him why she cried, why her son’s deafness was her fault. He’d look on her with disgust and regret. She fought his pulling, mistaking his intentions, wholly unaware of his new found fear. “Just leave me alone, Thomas.”  
“Darling, come away from the banister.”  
“Leave me alone!” She twisted away from him and fell bodily against the banister. They both froze, shocked by their actions, their reactions and each other. “I-I’m sorry, Thomas. Please, just leave me alone.”  
Fear sat like a stone in his belly, but he gently brushed her cheek. “Come back to the sitting room when you’re ready.”   
Lucille began to play at the piano as Thomas and Michael hung the trinkets on the tree limbs. Olivia rejoined them after a while, though her joy of the evening was broken. Thomas pulled her into a warm, tight hug, kissing the top of her head. “Are you better, my love?” She nodded. “Excellent.” Lucille watched the snow fall out the window, keeping her back to the little family decorating the tree behind her. It seemed she and Thomas weren’t the only ones with secrets.


	12. Chapter 12

It’d been far too long since Allerdale Hall had seen a Christmas dinner. And even longer than that since it’d seen a joyous one. Michael was pleased as punch with all three of his presents. Thomas and Olivia had exchanged their gifts privately that morning. She’d openly wept at the beautiful leather bound book of Shakespearean Sonnets. And he’d repeatedly kissed her face at the custom set of hand tools she’d snuck into his workshop. His fingertips had loving traced the engraved T.S. on the handles. Their kisses had turned from loving and appreciative to eager and passionate, before they made love on the workbench, muffling their cries with each other’s flesh.  
Lucille was touched by the butterfly necklace from Olivia and Thomas. She had tried to hide her smile when Olivia suggested she wear it on bare skin. She’d had to school her reaction to the gift from Michael.  
“It’s a gramophone, Lu. As soon as he heard it playing music, he went positively crazy.”  
“You should have seen him, Lucille. They were playing a recording of Chopin. He ran up to it and looked in the speaker, shouting ‘Anloo’.” Thomas smiled at the boy. “He wouldn’t let us leave the shop until we’d gotten you one.”  
“It’s wonderful. Thank you, Michael.” The little boy hugged his aunt then kissed her cheek. “We shall go to London in the spring and pick out some recordings.”  
“And then we can dance in the foyer like it’s a grand ballroom.” Olivia leapt to her feet and began a waltz by herself. As she passed by Lucille, she pulled her up to her feet and swept her around the room a few turns. Michael tugged at his father until he stood up. They cut in, husband taking wife and nephew taking aunt. Laughing, they waltzed out into the foyer from the sitting room, spinning circles around the large open space, avoiding the bare spot on the floor.  
The three of them bustled around the kitchen, making a small portioned but lavish Christmas dinner. Afterwards, Michael fell asleep in front of the fire, playing with his new toy train. “If you ladies would excuse me, I’d love to try out my new toys.”  
“Your new toys?”  
“Oh yes, Lucille, you’ll have to come up to the workshop and see the exquisite hand tools Olivia gave me.”  
Lucille, misinterpreting the invitation, smiled. “I’ll do just that before I go to bed.”  
“Lu, would you make us some tea while I put Michael to bed? I want to read you some of the Sonnets.” Thomas carried their son up the stairs with his wife at his side. “I hope you and Lu enjoyed the day.”  
“We have not had such a happy Christmas in this house that I can remember.”  
“Not even as children?”  
“Especially not as children.” Thomas set the boy in his crib then proceeded to undress him while Olivia went to the dresser for a dressing gown. “Mother and father were not loving individuals. Father was a brute, a drunk, a gambler, a philanderer. Mother was simply cold and hard and unforgiving.” Thomas kissed the boy’s forehead. “I will never make Michael feel the way my father made me. Like I was unworthy to be a Sharpe, to even be a man, a failure and a disgrace.” He brushed the hair from the boy’s forehead. “The only love Lucille and I felt was from each other.”  
Olivia kissed Michael’s forehead then turned her husband to look at her. The sadness in his eyes broke her heart. She leaned up and kissed him gently, a soft press of lips that wanted nothing but to give. “You have me now, my love. The both of you do. And you have Michael.”  
“Yes, I have you now.” He let her lead him from the room by his hand. “I do not mind sharing you with Lucille…” Thomas faced her, cupping her jaw before he brushed his nose back and forth along hers. “But you are mine first.”  
Olivia combed her fingers through his disheveled hair. “Would Lucille share you?”  
Thomas blinked and scoffed lightly. “What do you mean, darling?”  
“You’ve been hers alone for so long. We’ve not yet been married a year. Will she be able to share you with Michael and me for the rest of our lives?”  
His initial reaction faded into one more serious. “I don’t know, but she will have to.” He kissed her deeply, pressing her body against his. The warmth of her love warming the darkness from his soul. “Your tea will be about done.”  
Olivia smiled. “Look at you, antsy boy. Go on then. Go play with your toys.”  
He grinned and kissed her again. Thomas was conflicted for a moment. He wanted to kiss his wife and take her to bed. But his hands itched to create as well as touch. “I won’t be too long.” They split at stairs, him heading up and her heading down, their fingers lingering until they were too far apart to remain in contact.  
Lucille was sat on the couch, leafing through the book of sonnets. The tea service set on the table in front of her. Olivia sat on the couch and reclined against Lucille. “Have you had a happy day, my cherry?”  
“I have, my sweet.” Lucille absently combed her fingers through Olivia’s hair as she stared into the fire. She’d never known such a happy Christmas in the house, even when it was just her and Thomas. She registered Olivia’s voice and finally realized that her sister in law was reading her love poems. After the fourth one, she stopped her with a finger to her lips. “You’ve read me beautiful words of love. Let me play you something beautiful.” Lucille leaned in. She longed to taste Olivia’s lips, but she was not one to initiate affections, except with Thomas, only with Thomas.  
“Of course, my cherry.” Lucille swallowed and got up and went to the piano. She sat on the bench then began to play a haunting and pretty piece she’d heard while they’d been in London. Olivia sat on the bench next to her. Her hands froze over the keys when she reached down between her legs and lifted the skirts of the dress. “Don’t stop playing, Lucille.”  
Her hands trembled on the keys as the backs of Olivia’s fingers skimmed up her thigh. Her sister in law’s warm breath touched her neck before her lips. Lucille shifted, anxious and excited but not uncomfortable. “Olivia-“  
“Hush, my cherry, keep playing me your pretty song.” Lucille gasped as Olivia touched her between her thighs. Her fingers stuttered as sister in law made sister cum with fingers and thumb. Olivia’s mouth covered Lucille’s as she cried out in a wash of pleasure, drinking in the sound. “Next time, my cherry, I’ll make you see stars.” She kissed her passionately, pushing her tongue deeper than she had before, moaning into Lucille’s mouth. She fought the urge to slide to the floor and spread her wide and devour every inch of her. Fingers and tongues were very different things. Lucille might accept Olivia’s touch because it wasn’t so foreign from her own. But a mouth on her cunt…that she wasn’t ready for.  
Olivia left Lucille at the piano, leaving her tea untouched. She grabbed her book and headed for their bedroom. A hand like a vise caught her wrist and jerked her against a solid, warm body. Olivia looked up in fright.  
Thomas had left his workshop almost as soon as he’d stepped foot in it. He couldn’t put his finger on it but an unsettling feeling tugged at him. As if someone watched him with ill intention. He’d heard Lucille start to play as he descended the stairs. But he wasn’t fully prepared for the sounds that joined the sorrowful piano, sounds he’d heard intimately from Lucille’s lips for many years. He stood at the doorway, watching from the shadow.  
He watched his wife kiss his sister’s ear and neck then realized her hand was at work between Lucille’s legs. The music trembled as Lucille’s hands did, as her hips rolled, stroking Olivia’s fingers with her cunt. Jealousy stabbed him in the gut. Jealous of his sister receiving his wife’s affections; jealous of his wife making his sister cum. Shame chased that jealousy; that he watched this intimate exchange without their knowledge. But he knew Lucille would have put a stop to it. He would have deeply regretted that. Shame that he enjoyed watching them. Even now as Olivia rose from the piano bench, his cock pushed against his trousers. Shame that he wanted them both naked, with or without him, preferably with. If Olivia could accept the forbidden love between him and Lucille, if Lucille could share him fully with Olivia, they could all be happy. Most importantly, he felt aroused. The shame and the jealousy were shoved back by his growing need.  
Thomas watched Lucille watch Olivia with flushed cheeks and glistening eyes. His beautiful, alluring wife had the cat that got the canary smirk on her face as she left the sitting room. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her against his body hard. Her look of fright dissolved as his mouth covered hers, kissing her roughly almost savagely. He turned their bodies fully into the shadows.  
Olivia swallowed, breathless and trembling. “Husband?” He held his hand up for her to be silent. They waited, pressed together in a shallow doorway as Lucille carried the tea service into the kitchen. Thomas and Olivia looked at each other, flushing with need and voyeuristic desire as Lucille’s faint moans came from the kitchen.  
Thomas’s lips seared the flesh of her neck, his teeth scraping above the pulse as husband and wife listened to sister pleasure herself in the scullery. A high pitched moan followed by the discordant clinking of the tea seat let them know she’d finished. Again, Thomas silenced her as Lucille hurried from the scullery up the stairs.  
“Thomas, don’t-don’t be angry. I told you what I was.”  
“Hush, my love, give me your hand.” He pressed her delicate palm against the rock hard bulge in his trousers. “Does this feel angry to you?” She squeezed him, making his eyes close and his mouth drop open. “Is this the hand that you did it with?”  
“No, this one.” Thomas took her right hand and lifted her skirts.  
“Use your fingers on yourself but do not come.” His hand covered hers to press her fingers to her cunt, feeling the motion as they moved in and out. Olivia wanted to tell him how much she enjoyed this, but she couldn’t find the words. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You worry I’ll find you disgusting for pleasuring my sister…but will you find me disgusting for enjoying it?” He sucked her fingers into his mouth, tasting both women on her fingers. He should feel disgusting and vile, shameful and dirty. Yet, he only felt desire. He drew back off her fingers then traced her lips with her own fingertips. Olivia’s tongue darted out, tasting herself, Lucille, and Thomas’s mouth. “Or will you find me vile when I say I wish these tasted of all three of us?”  
How could she explain it to him without driving him away? “I find you neither disgusting nor vile…”  
Did she suspect their relationship went beyond what was appropriate and natural for siblings? Should he tell her? Or would proof of it, rather than just the fancy, drive her away? Thomas couldn’t take the thoughts and hopes in his head. Instead, he pulled her back into the sitting room and sat down on the piano bench. He unlaced his trousers and pulled his painfully hard cock free. He stroked it as she lifted her skirts. She faced away from him before she lowered herself on his cock. Their bodies fit together perfectly. Her hands braced on the cover over the piano keys as she rode him slowly up and down. His grip on her hips tightened as he tried to stay still, letting her have control. But his control wouldn’t last long. He pressed his open mouth to her spine between her shoulders.  
His wife trembled as she grew closer to her release. He couldn’t touch her enough; his hands moved from her hips to her breasts then back again. He couldn’t taste her enough as his mouth moved to the back of her neck. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her hair. He held her like that long after they’d finished.  
“We’re a pair, you and I.”  
“Cut from the same cloth.” She leaned back against him. “Sadness and pain seeking love and redemption.”  
Thomas turned her face so that he could kiss her lips. “And love we found, my darling.”


	13. Chapter 13

January moved into February. Thomas rolled over in the warmth of the bed and snuggled to his wife’s back. She sighed and nestled into him. His hand laid flat on her belly in indecision. He could knead her breasts which had grown lush and full. Or he could play with her cunny and they could make love before the workmen arrived to begin work on the machine again. He felt a sharp thump against his hand from her belly.  
“What?”  
“Hush, Thomas.” Olivia laid her hand over his and pressed harder. He felt the thump a few more times before it went away. Olivia linked in her fingers with his and held his hand against her belly. His confusion grew.  
“Darling?”  
“You know my secret now.”  
“Your secret?”  
“Our child, Thomas. Our baby…”  
“Baby…” He breathed against her hair. He rolled her onto her back and leaned over her. “Why keep it a secret?”  
“You…you seemed so terrified of what Lucille would do if she found out about us being intimate. I expected your fear to extend to a pregnancy as well.”  
“It would have.” He cupped her cheek. “It does. But Livi, I am hurt you hid this joy from me.”  
She pressed his hand to her face. “Forgive me?”  
“Promise me to never hide anything from me. Secrets…I want no part of them in our marriage.”  
“Other than the ones we already keep.”  
Thomas’s brow furrowed. “When you are ready, you will tell me yours…and I will tell you mine.” His thumb caressed her cheek. “Promise me. No more secrets.”  
She looked up at him and wanted to believe him. “No more secrets.”  
His hand skimmed down her arm then rested on her belly. “This was why you were sick?” She nodded. “And no more sickness?” She shook her head. “When should we expect him or her?”  
“Late April, early May, that’s if I’ve counted my cycles correctly.”  
“A baby born on the anniversary of our wedding.” Olivia grinned. “Fantastic.” He kissed her, his tongue entering her mouth before their lips met. When the kiss broke, he trailed his open lips across her cheek to her jaw then down to her pulse. He couldn’t resist the predatory urge to bite it. She rewarded him with a gasp and arched off the bed. He moved between her legs as he kissed down her collarbone, scraping his teeth along the bone. She groaned and opened her legs more.  
“I had no idea talk of babies would excite you this much.”  
“Not just any baby.” He met her eyes and held them. “Our baby, yours and mine. A part of me grows in you.” How could he explain to her this possessiveness he had for her? She was HIS. And now, even more than before because she carried HIS child. He kissed her sternum then pushed her breasts together. He licked and sucked on the top of her breasts, his thumbs pushing in the nipples. His teeth scraped the curves before he released them and moved further down.  
He smoothed her nightgown flat against her baby bump, marveling at it. Lucille had been very secretive and selfish during her pregnancy. He didn’t experience any joy during hers, only worry and shame. He gathered the dress and exposed her belly. He kissed every inch of the small bump tenderly. He moved lower, kissing down the bend of her leg and up her thigh.   
He grabbed her right leg behind the knee and kissed down to where her thighs met, his lips never leaving her flesh. Thomas kissed her cunt with an open mouth, tonguing her like he would her cherry lips. She sucked in a deep breath and held it. His moans vibrated against her body as he tasted the dew on her folds then drew a line up to her clit. A few licks and nibbles coaxed her bundle of nerves out of its hood. His cock rubbed against the bed as he dove face first into her, sucking on her clit until she grabbed his hair and cried out. He covered her mouth, muffling her cries and receiving a bite when she hit her orgasm.  
Thomas covered her like a lion stalking his prey. He was not gentle when he thrust hard and deep into her quivering cunt. Her legs spread wider while she writhed beneath him. His knees braced the bed, letting him drive into her. He drove out the demons and secrets in himself. Their bodies wedded together made him feel worthy. He was a man. A rich man with a beautiful wife and beautiful children, who had a sprawling manse and a company that would come back from the brink with his innovative ideas. This gasping, writhing woman that he fucked was his savior, his life, his future, his. She was his!  
Olivia looked up at her husband. He’d become a force of nature. This beautiful otherworldly creature saved her from the gallows, from a heart rendering sin. He pulled her up as he sat on his heels. “Bite me, scratch me, bleed me, my love.”  
“Yes, my darling.” She did as he said as he lifted her effortlessly along his length. She bit his shoulder, leaving teeth marks and scratched his back, bringing lines of tiny crimson pearls along his pale back. She locked her legs around him. He bit her shoulder just as hard. She groaned into his neck and bit him again, harder until the flesh yielded but did not break. He growled and bit down harder, touching his teeth together save for her flesh between. He felt her release run down his cock as her body jerked. He held onto her tighter, moving her up and down faster until his hands flexed and tightened their grip. He held her in place until his orgasm passed.  
Thomas cradled her head as he laid her down. “I love you, Olivia.”  
“I love you, Thomas.” He kissed her deeply, pressing his body into hers. He could take her again. He wanted to. Lucille be damned. He cared not if she found them together. Their bodies rubbed against each other. His hips jerked with the over-sensation. A loud banging at the front door announced the arrival of the workmen.  
“Blast it all.”  
“I’m not going anywhere, my darling. Go be Sir Thomas Sharpe, baronet engineer.” She grabbed either side of his face and kissed him.

The wind howled against the shuttered windows of Allerdale Hall, surging the burning fireplaces throughout the house. Olivia dozed in the library, a book held loose in her hand. It dropped from her sleep-slackened hand and startled her awake. That’s when she heard it. A sound she hadn’t heard since Michael was born but would be hearing again very soon, the sound of a newborn crying.  
She rose, blinking the fog of sleep from her eyes and mind. “Thomas? Lucille? Have we company?” Her slippered feet carried her out to the foyer. She heard Lucille singing in the kitchen. From the windows in the entryway, she could see Thomas with Michael at his feet as they and the workmen dug the deeper snow out from the excavator. The infant cried again, from somewhere upstairs.  
Olivia followed the crying to the attic. As she watched, a broken cradle attempted to rock. Her brow furrowed. “A baby? Thomas never said anything about a baby.” She looked over her shoulder and for the first time, noticed an old wheel chair. She looked out the window it sat in front of. Her heart tripped. This was the window she saw the woman’s face in then the red hand print. She could clearly see where she’d been standing with Michael that day. She could also faintly see the tree they’d found him near.  
Olivia slowly back away from the chair. She didn’t feel alone anymore. Though she couldn’t see anything, she felt the impression of someone sitting in the chair. She hurried out to the main hall. “Lucille?” She stood at the banister.  
“Olivia…” The voice was faint but audible and sent chills down her spine. “…don’t make him happy…”  
She turned around to the voice. No one was there but the wheel chair bashed into her legs. “Lu!” She tipped over the banister and fell to the landing below, landing on her side. Her head struck the edge of a stair and everything went black.


	14. Chapter 14

Lucille thrummed with rage. She set her face in a concerned yet stern mask for the doctor. Thomas could tell she would unleash hell on him by the way she twisted the handkerchief in her hands. The doctor pulled the doors closed behind him.  
“I don’t want her up from that bed.” He removed his glasses. “This is a crucial time. Nothing’s broken as far as I can tell. She’ll have headaches for some time until it heals. Now, this is important, Sir Sharpe. Are you listening?” Thomas pulled his attention from the closed doors to look at the doctor. “As far as I can tell, the baby is fine. She will pass some light traces blood but if the amount increases or she experiences cramping, then there’s nothing I can do and you will lose the child.”  
“So we just sit and wait?”  
“Yes, I’m afraid.” The doctor walked around to the stairs, trailing Thomas and Lucille behind him. “She’s a smart girl. She landed on her side and absorbed the impact through her whole body. Has she fallen before?”  
“I believe so.” Thomas looked away from his sister’s furious, silent inquisition. “Thank you for rushing out.”  
“It’s no problem, Sir Sharpe. I’ll be up in a day or two to check on her. Unless I hear from you before then, that is. I hope I don’t.” Lucille saw the doctor out as Thomas returned back up the stairs.  
Lucille grabbed his arm, digging her nails in as she spun him around. “A child! This wasn’t part of the plan.” Venom dripped from her lips.  
Thomas shrugged out of her grip violently. “The plan changed when we both fell in love with her.” Lucille staggered back a step as if slapped. “Yes, Lucille, I know about the two of you.”  
“Thomas, we haven’t-“  
“I wouldn’t care if you had.” He raked his hand through his hair, ignoring her pawing touch on his arm. “What happened? Did you see?”  
“I heard her scream for me from the kitchen. I found on her on the stairs. I didn’t see her fall or what caused it.” Lucille looked at her brother, hiding her pain and rage and shame. “When were you going to tell me? When she was in labor?”  
“I don’t know. I only found out this morning by accident.” He couldn’t and didn’t hide the pain in his voice. To experience such joy for so short a time. Tears stung his eyes and his jaw lowered and set, but he did not cry. He could not. All was not lost yet and he had to have hope.  
Lucille’s bottom lip trembled, her mask slipped. “You love her.”   
“So do you, Lucille.”  
“You love her.” She tried to turn him to face her, but he turned out of her hand. “More than me?” He didn’t answer. “More than me!” She struck his shoulder because she couldn’t get to his face. “Tell me! Do you love her more than me?”  
“Lucille-” He whipped around, ready to tell her the truth, but he saw the raw anguish on her face. “Never, Lucille.” He gathered his sister against his chest. Only in his arms did she allow herself to cry. Guilt and shame gnawed at them both for different reasons. Lucille held onto him tightly, weeping into his shoulder. For their lost child, their forbidden love, the love she felt for both Olivia and Thomas, because she denied herself the happiness she felt with her sister in law, because she wanted Thomas for herself, because she wanted Thomas and Olivia both in painful ways, the hope that the three of them could live happily together. That hope is what she cried for most of all. And that Thomas might love Olivia more than her.  
Thomas’s brow pinched. Had he been able to refuse her, they wouldn’t have been caught in this. Their love forbidden, their child twisted and wrong, the lives they’d taken to keep this decaying house alive, the hurt and pain, the guilt and the shame. He had loved her more than life itself once. She was all he knew of love. That was not the case anymore. Olivia had shown him a love that didn’t hurt, didn’t tear him up and apart. She’d shown him a love that filled him up and made him whole.  
Lucille sniffed and pulled back. “So what’s the plan now?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“What is the plan? Are you going to tell her our secret?”  
“What…what if she runs?” Panic sang through him.  
“Then she doesn’t love us and we can kill her. Isn’t that why you stayed my hand after Michael was off the breast? Because you loved her?”  
“Yes, but you love her too.”  
“But I love you more. I…I will do what is required. You say let her live. I let her live. I love her, yes, but never as much as you. If she will make us chose or if she runs, we kill her.” Thomas looked to the doors behind which his wife, sedated and unconscious and in pain, lay. “Thomas, we must.”  
“Must we?”  
“They can never know what we have done. And you know why.”  
He swallowed. “Leave us, please.”  
Lucille dropped her hands and turned away. “I will see to Michael then.” She looked over her shoulder as she walked down the hall to his bedroom. Thomas closed the doors behind him. Again, he’d lied. He prayed Olivia wouldn’t make him choose. He wasn’t sure he could. Or what he would lose if he did.

Thomas didn’t realize she’d woken up until she’d spoke. He’d been running his fingers through the hair at her temples, comforting them both. He would occasionally trail his hand down to her belly and say a prayer to whatever omnipotent being lay beyond that the baby would live.  
“Who was the woman in the wheelchair?” His hand stilled. “I’m not stupid, Thomas. She must have been one of your wives.”  
“Pamela.”  
“P.U….on the luggage in the lower level.” He drew his hand away. Olivia rolled gingerly onto her back, wincing at the sharp pain that cut through the dull ache.  
“Did you kill her?”  
“We did.”  
“Did you love her?” He noticed the way her voice broke on the word ‘love’. As if killing her when he loved her was worse than if he hadn’t, which it would have been.   
“No, I didn’t.” He reached out to touch her face but let his hand drop.  
“Enola, Margaret, Pamela…Olivia?”  
“No, no, you must believe me.”  
“How can I?”  
“I never loved them. Any of them. I love you. You carry my child.”  
“Any of them could have.”  
“No, they couldn’t have. I never…we never…” He touched her cheek, his thumb caressing the cheekbone. Touching her gave him the strength to excise these wounds. “I never made love with any of them.” How could he convince her she was different? “I knew…from the moment I saw you that you were different. I felt it.”  
Olivia rolled into him, sobbing into his chest. “Don’t make me do something horrible, Thomas.” How could they know they harbored the same fear? These secrets they kept slowly ate them, at their love until they came to light.  
“Olivia, talk to me…tell me…”  
She whispered softly. “You’ll think me a beast…a monster.”  
“Never, darling, please.” He scooted down the bed so that he could look in her eyes, their faces a mere breath apart. “No more secrets, remember?”  
Her words barely reached his ears. “Nathaniel began as a loving husband. Then his cruelty began to seep through. He resented me, for so many reasons that only a man like him understands. I knew there were other women. Who was I to complain about his affairs? I had his home and was pregnant with his child. He made no promises to end his philandering when Michael was born, but I was sure he would stop.” She began to shake. “He never stopped. He flaunted it. He would fuck me like a whore then go fuck his whores. He was clever enough to beat me and not leave bruises. Only commoners left bruises, he would say.”  
Thomas wrapped his arms around her. Her late husband sounded much like his father. “I never knew he was hurting the baby until I walked in on him shaking Michael because he wouldn’t stop crying. Then he walled me up in the garden and I knew…he would eventually kill us.” She looked him square in the face, brimming with remembered terror and rage. “I told him I wanted to fuck him on the balcony of the third floor. I told him I liked the danger. He took me from behind and began to choke me. He said horrible things to me that I dare not repeat. And when he was finished, I shoved him over the banister.” Thomas blinked. “He was surprised, I think.”  
“You are no more a monster than I am. We’ve done horrible things, my love.” He cupped her face. “I will never hurt you. Or Michael. Or the baby.”  
“Tell me why I’m so different. How did you choose the others?”  
“Olivia, please.”  
“Tell me, Thomas, so that I can believe you.”  
He held her tighter against his chest. “They were our last resort every time; a means to an end that we kept narrowly escaping but crept ever closer. We went to their cities…Pamela in London, Margaret in Edinburgh, Enola in Milan…to find investors for the company, for the machine. The Sharpe name didn’t carry much weight after my father destroyed it and the fortune. They listened to my proposal then politely turned me down. But I am handsome and charming and there are women, with broken hearts and broken dreams, who just want to be loved. And I became their dashing, dark stranger. And they loved me.  
“It was Lucille’s idea to poison them. Less mess…”  
“So you are still married to them?”  
“Legally, you could argue that. As their bodies will never be found, they are legally missing and presumed dead.”  
“If you met and married Pamela in London, how were we to able to wed?”  
“Silas. Your uncle paid a fair amount to have the marriage license between her and I disappear.”  
“What was his price?”  
“What he paid and 15% of the excavator.”  
“Oh, Thomas, did you?”  
“I did.” He couldn’t understand why this news pained her more than his and Lucille’s seduction and murder of three innocent women. “You see…we are not so different. Can you still love me? Do you?”  
“You said it was Lucille poisoning them.” He nodded. “You have a thing for lethal women.” He laughed in surprise. “You swear never to make me choose between you and the children.”  
“I swear it. Just, tell me you love me.”  
“I love you.”  
“Then I swear it.” He crushed his lips to hers. Could they explain to the other their relief? Did he know the ease in his soul that she did? Did she feel the absence of her secret like a thorn plucked from her side? “We are bound together, with sadness and guilt.”  
“No, my darling, no.” She winced as she pushed herself up. “You and I…we were drawn together by our sadness, our guilt and pain and shame. But we, my darling love, we are bound by love.” Secrets still lay between them. Possibly the darkest of them all. But if they were truly bound by love as she said, they would survive their revelation.


	15. Chapter 15

Lucille fluffed the pillows up behind Olivia’s head. She avoided looking into her eyes. Neither said a word. Lucille sat on the edge of the bed while Olivia quietly ate her porridge. She drew in a deep breath to finally speak the first words to her in more than a week.  
“How long have you known you were with child?”  
“Since before Christmas.”  
Lucille turned to face her. “Why keep it a secret?”  
“Thomas was always skittish about our intimacy when it came to you. I assumed that would extend to a child.”  
Lucille looked down at the coverlet. “How long have you been intimate with him?”  
“Do you really want to know?”  
“Yes, no, I don’t know.”  
Olivia reached out and laid her hand on Lucille’s. She could feel her sister in law shaking. “Do you want the truth?”  
“Yes…”  
“No matter how much it hurts?”  
“Yes, please tell me.”  
“Look at me, Lu.” Olivia waited until Lucille met her eyes. “Since the train ride here.” She watched Lucille’s heartbreak and rage dance across her face. “But I’m not going to take him away from you. I know how important he is to you.” Olivia sat up slowly. “I love you, Lu. I’m so very glad you’re here.” She kissed Lucille’s cheek though she stiffened.  
“Did you really not tell Thomas either?”  
Olivia lay back down but did not remove her hand. Instead, she curled her fingers around to hold Lucille’s hand. “No, I didn’t. Part of it was fear that he’d become like Nathaniel. Or that I would lose it like I did the child I was pregnant with when we first met.” She looked away, out into the painfully bright grey sky. “I didn’t want to see that joy ripped from him.”  
“I had a child once.” Lucille looked away into the fireplace. The dancing flames reflected in her eyes. “He was born wrong. Sick. I wanted him so. He was beautiful…like his father.”  
Olivia turned from the window in the moment Lucille turned from the fireplace. Their shared mother’s loss and the pain of that loss passed between them. Olivia reached up to cup Lucille’s cheek. “My sweet cherry…”  
Lucille pressed her hand to Olivia’s as she bent forward. Lucille’s lush lips captured her sister in law’s. Olivia gasped, taken by surprise and Lucille’s tongue stole into her mouth. Her tongue danced with Lucille’s until the kiss broke. “Oh my darling girl, I’m so afraid.” Lucille kissed down Olivia’s throat to her collarbone. Her teeth scraped the bone and Olivia answered with a moan.  
Olivia trailed her fingers down the high collar on the dress to the tops of Lucille’s breasts. “Why? What are you so afraid of?”  
Lucille shook her head. “Nothing for you to worry about. You need to rest.” Her lips continued down the loose neckline of the night dress. Her dark eyes flicked up to the Olivia’s. Olivia’s lips parted in anticipation. Lucille pulled the hem down below her breasts. She closed her eyes as she dropped kisses over the plump mound. Olivia licked her lips. Again, Lucille looked up in askance, but she didn’t look away as she lowered her mouth to the pebbled nipple. She kept eye contact with Olivia as she slipped her hand under the coverlet.  
Lucille’s hand stole under the skirt of the nightdress. She trailed the backs of her fingers up Olivia’s thighs then cupped her mound. Her elegant fingers teased the cleft of Olivia’s pussy lips before they sought the bundle of nerves. Olivia finally looked away, closing her eyes and tilting her head back into the pillows.  
Lucille lost herself in the taste of the flesh in her mouth, the feel of the warm, wet folds pulsing around her fingers. She kept the steady firm circles up on Olivia’s clit until the woman in her hand shook and grabbed the mattress.  
“Oh god, Lu!” Olivia arched off the bed, raising up inches. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. This was the first time Lucille had touched her, the first time she’d made her cum. Yes, they’d kissed, fondled and licked and sucked each other’s breasts, but only Olivia had made Lucille cum. Lucille’s lips trailed a line up to her ear.  
“I love you, Olivia. Please believe that.”  
“I love you too, Lucille.”  
Both women looked up as the door burst open. Thomas looked around frantically. “Olivia, are you alright?” He stepped into the room and stopped. Olivia raised an eyebrow at him. He quickly registered his wife’s exposed breasts and flushed cheeks, as well as his sister’s hand below the blankets.  
“I’m fine, my love. Lu was just helping me relax.”  
Lucille slowly withdrew her hand, but Olivia felt the baby kick and halted her progress. She pressed her hand flat against her belly. “Is that-?”  
“It is.” Tears brimmed in Lucille’s eyes as she turned to Thomas. Thomas pulled the gloves from his hands as he crossed to the bed. His chilled hand joined the women’s hands under the blanket. The baby kicked again. Thomas beamed at his wife. Lucille fought not to cry. Olivia turned her hand and laced her fingers with Lucille’s. Thomas locked his fingers with theirs. Lucille swallowed as she looked from Olivia to Thomas. She couldn’t find words for the conflicting thoughts and emotions in her heart.  
“Papa! Papa! You come see!” Michael ran into the room, hitting the door.  
“How’d you get up the stairs?”  
“Nana help me.” The three adults exchanged looks.  
“Who helped you, Mimi?”  
“My nana.” He climbed onto the bed and started to flop onto Olivia but Thomas caught him.  
“You must be careful of mummy’s belly.”  
“Ohhhhh the baby!” Michael laid his head on his mother’s abdomen.  
“Mimi, could you go to your room? Papa will be there in a moment to see what you want to show him. Right, Thomas?”  
“Yes, of course, son.” He smiled uncertainly at the toddler.  
“Yes, mummy.” He kissed his mother’s belly then scooted off the bed and ran from the room.  
“Livi, did you tell him?”  
“No, more importantly, who helped him up the stairs? My mother is dead.”  
“So is ours.”  
Olivia said nothing but she noticed the look that passed between the siblings. More secrets. “How did she die?”  
Lucille pulled her hand free. “We shouldn’t speak of these things in your condition. You need your rest. For the baby.” Lucille swooped up the serving tray and hurried from the room.  
“How did she die, Thomas?”  
“She was murdered.” Olivia pulled her hand away but Thomas grabbed it back. “In the bath. Lucille and I were very young.”  
“I’m sorry, my love.”  
He sighed. “Don’t be. She was a horrible woman of whom I was terrified of.”  
Olivia laced her fingers with Thomas’s once more. “What happened?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Did Lucille do it?” He tried to pull his hand away but she held on harder. “Thomas, answer me. Did Lucille murder your mother?”  
“Yes.” He jerked his hand free. “Are you happy now?”  
“Oh my darling, you’ve married your sister…”  
“What?” She sighed and settled onto the pillows.  
“So many revelations…so many secrets we keep…do you still love me as much as that night in the courtyard?”  
Thomas slid his leg around so he sat fully on the bed. “No.” Olivia jerked as if slapped. “I love you more.” He cupped her face and met her teary eyes. “Did you kill your mother?”  
“Yes…I strangled her…she…” Thomas watched her lick her lips, fighting the urge to crush them with his own. She’d been right, he loved dangerous women. Their strength, their passion, it made him stronger. “What she did was unforgivable. And when I have the chance…”  
“What happened to your father?”  
“Hush, love. Too much, it’s too much.”  
“Alright, my darling.” He kissed her then, rapidly moving his lips over her jaw and neck, down her throat. “Are you well enough?”  
Olivia sighed. “A few more days, my loving husband.” His kisses slowed. “But there are other places…”  
Thomas thought of her mouth around his cock. His open mouth moaned against her collarbone. Her growled and scraped his teeth along the bone. She gasped. “Tonight…”  
“Tonight…” He raised his head and searched her face. “Michael is waiting for you.”

Thomas arched his back. His toes curled as his long body stretched taut while his orgasm sang through his blood, his nerves, his soul. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, exposing the line of his throat. Before his body relaxed, Olivia’s lips trailed kisses up his bare abdomen and chest then the line of his throat.  
“Oh my darling, I love when you do that.” He opened his eyes and fell completely still. The face that looked down at him wasn’t Olivia’s, nor was it Lucille’s. It was the rotting face of Enola.  
“Thomas, are you alright?” The voice cracked and tittered. He could hear his wife’s in there somewhere. Jagged teeth dripped crimson clay onto his face. “Thomas, you’re white as a sheet! I’ll summon a doctor.” The bed moved as Olivia rolled away to stand. She hurried to the door but Thomas had roused himself and met her at the door.  
“I’m fine, love. Please, lay back down.”  
“Thomas, you’re pale as a ghost.”  
He forced himself to smile. “The one I saw was grey…”  
“So you’ve seen them too.”  
Thomas tilted her chin up. “Is that why you fell? Did you see something?”  
“I didn’t fall, love. I was forced over the railing by that bloody wheelchair.”  
“I’m so sorry this happened.” He caressed her hair then down her arm and rested a hand on her belly. The baby kicked in response, wound up by her spike of fear.  
“Let’s leave.”  
“We can’t.”  
“Why?”  
“This house is our legacy.”  
“No, Thomas. This baby is your legacy.” She pressed both her hands on his then pointed to the window. “That marvelous machine is your legacy. This house…it’s rotting, dying. And it will try to take us with it.”  
“What about Lucille?”  
“What about her? You don’t think I’d leave her here?”  
“That wasn’t what-“  
“I love her. You love her. Michael loves her. She is a part of us.”  
“Olivia, there are things…”He met her eyes, terrified of ripping open the wound that never really healed. “I’m not so sure she’ll leave.”  
“Then we must convince her.”  
“For us, for the baby and Michael. This house…it’s toxic. It’s poison.”  
“Is that why you so willingly sold your estate?”  
She smiled. “It is. I thought I could run from Nathaniel’s ghost if I sold the estate. It only followed me here.” She cupped his face. “Only when we tell each other the truth, only when our secrets and sins are exposed and atoned for, can we leave the ghosts behind.”  
“But you still have nightmares.”  
She smiled sadly. “We still have secrets…” He pressed his lips together in a sad smile.  
“I love you.”  
“I love you.”  
“Let me think on this before we say anything to Lucille.”  
“Alright, my darling.”  
“Now, come back to bed. It’s rather cold in here despite the fire.” Olivia laughed, looking down the line of his naked body.  
“I cannot wait until the doctor returns.” He swallowed. The look of heat and need in her eyes when they met his drove a spike into his belly. His cock twitched despite being satisfied moments ago. He took her lips in a restrained kiss but her eager hands caressed his bare flesh, warming him from the inside out. The kiss became more. Thomas’s hands tugged at the nightdress as they roughly moved over the fabric. Their tongues demanded more. With a growl, he lifted her under the arms. Her legs locked around his waist as he carried her to the bed.  
Thomas laid her on the bed and propped himself above her. “I know we cannot but…are you bleeding?”  
She shook her head, looking up at him. Her belly twisted in eager anticipation. “After the first few days, the spotting stopped.”  
“Good.” He kissed her, pulling away even as she raised off the bed to chase his mouth. “Good.” He kissed her throat, pressing the pulse between his teeth.  
Thomas froze as something moved at his peripheral vision. He turned slowly. His stern, hard face relaxing as the shock and uncertainty faded. Olivia followed his gaze. “Michael?”  
Her toe-headed son peaked over the head of his teddy bear. “I nigh-nigh wif you and papa.”  
“What’s wrong, Mimi?” Thomas carefully slid to the side and off Olivia. He sat on the opposite side of the bed and pulled his night shirt on.  
“Scary lady keeps watchun me.” Michael scurried up the bed and into his mother’s arms. He snuggled down under the covers between Thomas and Olivia.  
“Son, what does the scary lady look like?” Thomas rolled onto his side and looked at Olivia over the boy.  
“Red…she owwie her head.”  
“Owwie how, my baby?”  
“She no face, mumma.”  
“She had no face?” Michael hugged his bear closer and shook his head. “It’s alright, baby. You can sleep with us. Papa and I don’t mind at all.” Thomas kissed his son’s forehead then kissed his wife.  
“Goodnight, my loves.” He settled down on his side, looking into Olivia’s eyes as Michael fell asleep between them then watching her fall asleep. He brushed the hair from her face. The house had always held its secrets and animosity. He’d never known it to be haunted. But now it seems his and Lucille’s sins were coming back to take his happiness.


	16. Chapter 16

Thomas looked over the dossier in his lap. Olivia’s head rested on his shoulder. He loathed deceiving Lucille. But if they stayed in Allerdale Hall, it would be the end of everything they loved. To his relief, the foreman had brought good news. His parts for the machine had arrived from Ireland. So husband, wife and son went to collect. It gave them the perfect excuse to see the estate the workmen gossiped about.  
One of the other notable families in Cumbria had built the estate but decided to emigrate to America. The carriage stopped by the post office. Thomas excited looked over the parts and pieces, inspecting their condition.  
“Whas at, papa!” Michael peeked over Thomas’s shoulder at the large valve.  
“Michael, remember, inside voice.”  
“Yes, papa.”  
Thomas smiled at the lad. “This is a valve I had fabricated. Unfortunately, it got tied up in transit over the winter. Now that spring has arrived, maybe you and I can get the excavator to work and stay working.” Michael jumped up and down, clapping. Olivia walked around the small bustling room. She looked over her shoulder, smiling.  
“Ah, Lady Sharpe, you look absolutely glowing.”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
“How much longer?”  
“Until the little one? Only another month or so.”  
“Congratulations. It’s good to see Sir Thomas so happy.”  
She turned around to see him beaming at Michael as the boy tried to figure out how two parts fit together. He laughed, grinning and took them carefully. She couldn’t hear his words, but she watched his explain how they fit with something he used his hands to describe between them. “It looks good on him, doesn’t it?”  
“There’s quite a bit of mail, ma’am.” He handed her a stack. She scanned names and addresses, schooling her face against the ones that alarmed her.  
“Thank you.” She tucked the stack into her handbag and turned to her men. “Are we about ready, sirs?”  
Thomas looked up her, his grin faltered at something he saw in her face. “Yes, of course.” He rose. “Michael, head out to the carriage. Mother and I will be right behind you.” Young men loaded up the boxes onto to flat carts. Thomas slipped his arm around her waist and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Everything alright, darling?”  
“The other ladies Sharpe have been receiving mail.”  
Thomas’s concerned expression fell into a neutral mask. “I had no idea.”  
“Apparently, Lucille hadn’t either. Your postmaster didn’t ask my name so I think he assumed it was all mine.”  
“We’ll discuss this back at the Hall.”  
“Not around Lucille.”  
“Why not?” Thomas turned to her.  
“Have you told her I know about your other wives?” Thomas looked away. “I had thought as much. We must deal with this ourselves. I’m afraid Lu might act rashly.”  
Thomas nodded. “Before we return to the Hall, I have one stop.” Olivia raised an eyebrow. “It’s a surprise.”  
The carriage came to a stop before a gate not unlike their own. But the estate hadn’t been given a name before the family left. “What is this?”  
“I heard the workmen talking about it yesterday. The family emigrated to America just after its completion. What do you think?”  
Olivia turned bodily toward the gate. “It’s much smaller than Allerdale. It’s about the size of Hampstead.”  
“Is that a problem?”  
“Thomas,” She rubbed her large, pregnant belly, “with Michael and the new baby and anymore children we have, plus Lucille, I think it’s perfect.”  
“Unless of course, you want to move back to London.”  
“God, no!” She looked at him in utter horror. “The further away I am from Silas, the better.”  
Thomas cupped her jaw. “Alright, it’s alright, my love.” He kissed her, a soft but firm press of lips that opened to tongues. His thumb caressed the line of her throat. “I’ll send word to the lawyers to begin purchasing it.”  
“What about Lucille?”  
“I’ll deal with her.” He sighed and pressed his forehead against his wife’s. “I haven’t told her that she’s no longer on the company accounts, nor the family accounts.”  
“Thomas, why?”  
“Why did I remove her or why have I not told her?”  
“Both.”  
“It’s dastardly of me.” He frowned. “I’m exploiting her fear of abandonment.”  
“Thomas.”  
“If she feels more dependent on me or you, she will be less likely to fear our departure.”  
“Or more." She sighed. "I see your point, but I don’t like it.”  
Thomas used his thumb to bring her chin up and hold it. “After the collapse yesterday and all the odd happenings in the house…” He shook his head then met her eyes. “I have to get us out there.” He didn’t tell her about the shear panic that had seized him when the western most section of the house collapsed. Its disuse and dilapidation had hastened the sinking and the load-bearing frame had given up. Thankfully, because of its disrepair, it had been abandoned and no one was hurt. In a more heavily or routinely used section of the house that would have been a different story. “If anything happened to you or the children or Lucille, I don’t know how I could bare it.”  
Olivia rested her head on his shoulder as they headed back to Allerdale Hall. Before long, she fell asleep and left him to his thoughts. Michael chattered away to the driver. He rested his hand on Olivia’s belly. The baby moved against his hand. He was reminded of a cat pushing it's head into his hand, seeking affection and attention. He left his hand there the rest of the ride, feeling as if he held everything in that hand.


	17. Chapter 17

The fire popped and crackled. Thomas sat spread-legged in the large chair, his eyes riveted to the spectacle on the bed before him. The whiskey tumbler hung loose in his fingertips. He licked his lips, tasting the oaken flavor on his tongue, but what he longed to taste writhed on the bed. He lifted his hips, his trousers tightening as his cock grew. He reached down and tugged on his erection.  
Sighs and moans forced him to untie the laces and slip his hand inside. His thumb passed over the head. He was just watching, but he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to hold out.  
Olivia kissed her way up Lucille's thigh. Their pale skin made them appear seamless. Lucille's eyes closed and her head tilted back as Olivia's lips found her clit and suckled gently. She cried out and latched onto the headboard. Her freehand plucked and pulled at her pebbled nipple. Olivia's hands were not idle. Her fingers slid in and out of Lucille's cunt and her other teased her neglected nipple.  
With a shout, Lucille's orgasm crashed over her. Her eyes shot open and met Thomas's. His hand stroked and twisted his cock. Olivia climbed up her sister in law's body and turned her face. "Taste yourself, my sweet sweet cherry." Thomas's mouth opened as his wife's tongue invaded his sister's mouth. His chest heaved. His cock ached to be inside one of them. He nearly lost control when they both turned and looked at him, licking their lips.  
"Now, your turn."  
Lucille slid down the bed, suckling at Olivia's swollen breasts until she shouted. Her arms wrapped around the woman above her's thighs and pulled her pussy down to her mouth. She licked and kissed the plump, wet folds. Olivia latched onto the headboard, closing her eyes. Her back arched as her hips shamelessly fucked Lucille's tongue. Thomas began to pant. The pressure building in his balls. Husband and wife looked at each other and met their release in a shuddering, shouting rush.  
Thomas slumped in the chair. He knocked back the rest of the whiskey. Now aware of it's lack of taste. The fire gave off no heat or smoke. He looked from the healthy fire to his empty glass. The patter of fat rain drew his attention to the bed. The milky skin of the women he loved became speckled with drops of scarlet clay rain. They paid it no heed, gazing into each other's eyes. Their hands caressed, smearing the clay over their skin. His cock twitched at the oddly erotic sight. Red on white.  
He frowned as he counted hands. The rain increased until the bed became a pool of crimson sheets and limbs. One, two, they rubbed their bodies against each other. Three, four, they kissed open mouthed, heedless of the clay corrupting their lips and tongue. Five, six, seven, eight. He rose slowly from the chair. Nine, ten, sensual teasing became struggling against hands that weren't their own.  
"Thomas!"  
"Help!"  
He pulled up short as the clay sucked them down. It's surface fell calm and flat as a mirror. His mother rose from the clay. "You will chose, my son. What do you love?"  
A light touch on his wrist jerked him awake. "Papa?"  
He whipped around to see Michael standing shyly at his side. He raked his hands through his hair. "Yes, son?"  
"Dinner is weady."  
"Thank you. Where's your mother?" He stood and stretched. He could still feel the effects of the fear and the arousal from the dream.  
"Mumma's sick. Mumma go to bed."  
"I'll go check on her. Tell Aunt Lu I'll be right there."  
"Yes, papa."  
Thomas climbed the stairs to the bedroom. He couldn't shake the mixed emotions the dream evoked. He opened the door to the darkened room. "Olivia, my love?" He lit the oil lamp next to the bed. Her face was pinched in some inner pain. He sat down next to her and brushed the hair from her face. "Livi, darling, wake up."  
She blinked then rolled onto her back. "Did you enjoy your nap?"  
"I did. Michael said you were sick."  
"It's just my back, my darling."  
He squeezed her hand then brought it to his lips. "Should I go fetch the doctor?"  
She shook her head. "No, not yet. If it hurts in the morning, send a workman." She looked up at him. "I don't want you to go."  
He frowned. "Something wrong?"  
"Just nightmares again."  
Thomas caressed her cheek. "Tell me."  
She raised an eyebrow, his facial expression giving her pause. "Are you having them too?" He nodded once and said nothing more. "They've been about the baby's birth. Something goes wrong." She sighed and turned away, blinking away tears before looking back. "There's blood...so much blood...too much... The blood becomes viscous clay. The baby's choking cry becomes a gurgle."  
"Oh Livi." He drew her up into his arms.  
"You're never there. You leave to get the doctor and I never see you again. Oh please, please don't leave me, Thomas."  
"I won't." He held her tightly. Her tears bringing forth his own. "I'll never leave you, my dearest love."

Olivia woke with a start. The pain in her lower back was nigh-on unbearable. She scrunched her face inward, bearing down on the pain. She reached to Thomas's side of the bed. "Love, please..." His side was empty and cold. The pain eased up and she pulled her dressing robe over her night dress as she stood. Lucille's hauntingly sad voice drifted down from the attic.  
Using the wall for support, she made her way to the lift. The pain seized her, stealing her breath. She leaned against the cage as it rose. She panted, swallowing down the pain without much success. She followed Lu's voice to an area of the attic she'd never been. The warm candle glow gave momentary life to the butterflies in glass domes that marked this as Lucille's space.  
Her own heavy breath mingled with Thomas's. He sat on the foot of the bed, his body curled over a kneeling Lucille. The pain eased up and she was able to hear something other than her own blood in her ears. A soft sucking sound.  
The pain seized her again, fiercer this time. She couldn't help the cry from her lips. Thomas's head snapped up. "Olivia." Lucille's mouth released his throbbing cock. She sat back on her heels. The moment froze. Lucille didn't hide the hurt on her face at the look of horror on her brother's. The moment of discovery...a moment that had to happen.  
"Thomas..." She gasped and doubled over. "Lu..." He rose, hastily tucking himself in his trousers. "Doctor."  
Lucille had expected shock, disgust, anger, betrayal. She saw none of that on her sister in law's face. Only pain, twisted pain. The wood darkened at her feet. She latched onto Thomas's arm.  
"I can explain."  
"Doctor." She gasped. "The baby."  
"Her water broke. We need to get her back in bed." Another contraction seized her, buckling her knees. Thomas swept his wife up into his arms, in a bridal carry.  
"What does that mean?"  
"The baby is coming." Lucille couldn't touch or put into words the emotional tempest inside her. "You take her back to bed. I'll head into town."  
"I'm quicker on foot."  
"Who says I'm going on foot? No, go." Lucille hustled him out of the room so she could dress in her riding gear.  
Olivia's head rested against his arm. Sweat formed a shining layer on her skin. He laid her gently on the bed. Her hand became a vise on his as a contraction seized her. "Thomas, I don't know if they'll make it in time."  
"Lucille is like lightning on a stead. Just hang on, my love." He pried his hand from hers and slipped into the bathroom. The water ran cold over his hands. He could faintly smell Lucille's scent on his fingers. He looked at himself in the mirror. His shamed burned bright. His flesh had been weak in the aftermath of his dream. And to his guilt and horror, he'd found himself in Lucille's embrace.  
Thomas lay the cold wet clothe over his wife's forehead. He felt he had to say something. "Livi, I can explain. I'm so sorry....please..." Please, don't leave. Don't tell anyone. Don't hate us. Don't hate me. Don't leave. Don't take our children. Don't-don't...don't turn away. Please stay. Please join us. Be with us.  
She met his watery, terrified eyes without judgement. She touched his lips. "Hush. Stop." Her hand sought his. They latched together, hers squeezing tightly through a contraction. "I'm not blind. Nor stupid, Thomas." He pushed the sweaty hair from her face as he'd done earlier when they'd been talking nightmares. "I think I'd known since the beginning. So many things gave you away."  
"And you've said nothing?"  
"I knew you'd tell me. Or I'd see for myself."  
"I haven't...we haven't- There was only twice since our marriage."  
"Thomas, Thomas, it's alright." His terror and self-loathing washed out of him. "I know what you mean to each other." She cupped his face. "I love you both. Did you not think that I would want to fuck you both at some point? And together?" These weren't things they should be discussing at the birth of their baby. They both knew but there was a chance they might not get to.  
"Where do we go from here?" He pressed his hand over hers on his face.  
"Forward, my husband. Lucille will make or break this." Her hand spasmed under his. Their fingers locked. "The baby...Thomas...the baby is coming."  
Thomas pushed the night gown up. Olivia spread her legs and bent her knees. The bed was wet beneath her with amniotic fluid. "I'm an inventor, my love. I have no idea what I'm doing. Tell me what do to."  
"Can you see the baby's head?"  
Thomas looked at the mess of matted hair and fluid that was his wife's vagina. He could see something just inside. "Yes, it's almost there."  
Olivia lay back on the pillows. "When the baby's head crowns, you're going to have to help it out when I push."  
"I don't want to hurt you."  
Olivia laughed, breathlessly and without mirth. "Thomas, whatever pain you might cause me is nothing compared to what our child is doing. Just...just push the skin back. And pray to the powers beyond us that Lu returns with the doctor soon."  
Thomas's eyes shone in a whole different type of fear. If he did something wrong, they could both die. Would she forgive him if he caused the baby to die? Could he carry on without her if he caused her to die? Could he if he lost them both? This was too much. He couldn't do it.  
"Thomas. Thomas?"  
"Yes, darling?"  
"I love you."  
"I love you." He leaned over her stomach, between her legs and kissed her.  
She held his face with both hands before he could pull away. "You can do this." He pressed his lips closed and nodded. "We can do this." He grabbed her hand and kissed the palm then sat back down. He could see the baby's head pushing forth. He couldn't bear the death of another child. He would do this.

Lucille's blood thundered in her ears. It drowned out the horse's huffing breath and the thump of it's hooves on the ground. Her body rocked with the speed of the gallop. Her mind raced with what was going on at Allerdale. Her fear fought her elation. The baby was coming! Olivia had discovered them together. The truth was out. If she could not accept that, she would go the way of the others. But what if she could? What if she wanted to be with them both?  
All these thoughts and their accompanying emotions tore her up from inside. She brought the stead to a halt in front of the doctor's house then dismounted. Before she could secure the horse, she bent over and vomited. Her stomach churned and she vomited a second time. The third time, her stomach simply heaved, already empty of it's contents.  
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then tied the horse to the post. The house was dark but that didn't stop her. Her loves needed her. They depended on her to do this. Her trembling fist pounded on the door. No answer. She pounded again. A light came on inside.  
The door opened. "Yes?"  
She knew her panting breath must smell horrid but she leaned into the opening. "Dr. Adams, you must come quick. Olivia. The baby is coming."  
"Oh! Oh right! Give me just a moment." The door shut in her face. She shivered in the cold. Adrenaline raced through her. The doctor emerged with his bag. "Let's go, Lady Sharpe." He looked around. "Where's the carriage?"  
"No time for a carriage, good sir." She strode to the horse and mounted like the seasoned rider she was. "You better hang on tight." And tight he did. The ride seemed to take forever. Too long, too long, she kept repeating over and over in her head.


	18. Chapter 18

Lucille brought the horse right up to the door. The doctor dismounted then her. They both looked up at a pained scream from inside the house.  
“You go! Up the stairs and around to the left.” She tied the horse to a secure post then ran inside. Michael’s screaming cry filled the foyer. She tossed her scarf and riding gloves onto the hall table then ran up the stairs, leaving mud in clumps from her boots. Michael reached for Lucille as she swept him up into her arms outside of the master bedroom where he stood by the banister.  
Thomas sat on the bed, shaking visibly. His hand and forearm was bloodied. Lucille could see blood smeared on his cheek and he’d likely been running his hands through his hair. The doctor quickly shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves.  
“Lady Lucille, after you’ve calmed the child, could you boil some water and bring some more towels? And a double shot of whiskey for your brother?”  
“Of course, doctor.” As Lucille turned to leave, she glimpsed Olivia’s ashen face. Her eyebrows pinched with pain. Her chest rose and fell in a rapid pant. Thomas’s body blocked view of his wife’s most intimate parts.  
“Alright, Thomas, I’m going to support the baby’s head and then we’re going to switch positions. Things are going to move very swiftly and I’m going to need your help if we want mother and child to survive the night.”  
“Yes, doctor.”  
Thomas’s face was mask of worry and fear. He handed off the baby’s chin to the doctor’s strong, calloused hand. “Now, Lady Sharpe. Can you hear me, Olivia?” Thomas and the doctor traded places. The doctor frowned at the amount of blood on the bed. “Olivia?”  
“Yes…”  
“It’s alright if you scream. Thomas is right there to hold onto. I’m going to move the baby. You’ll feel pain and pressure. The shoulders are stuck in your pelvic opening.”  
Thomas locked his fingers with Olivia’s and brushed her sweaty hair from her brow, leaving a bloody smear in their wake. Her eyes were glassy with pain and blood loss as she looked up at him. “I don’t want to die here, Thomas.”  
“You’re not going to, my love. Don’t speak such things.”  
“They’re waiting. They want me to die. I can hear them.”  
“Hear who? Who is she talking about?”  
“Nothing, doctor.” Thomas peered into his wife’s face. “You’re not going to die, Olivia.” The doctor supported the baby’s head. Its poor little neck strained against the weight of its brain and the pressure on its shoulders.   
Thomas couldn’t see what the doctor was doing but Olivia’s screamed and arched off the bed. “Now, on the next contraction, push, Olivia!” Olivia’s grip on his hand was weaker than before the birthing had begun.  
He adjusted his fingers and squeezed her hand tighter. “Come on, my darling girl. You can do this.” He looked at her. “You’re not leaving me.” She nodded weakly. Her face twisted in pain and her grip tightened and she pushed.  
“There we go! That’s a girl. Thomas, Thomas, come here.” The doctor held the baby by its ankles and smacked its back with a cupped hand. Fluid in the lungs and mouth expelled with the gentle force of the blow, and the baby shrieked its first cry.  
The house fell eerily quiet. Lucille pulled up short in the doorway. She set the boiling kettle on the floor next to the bed and handed the doctor the towels. “Ah, Lucille, just in time.” The doctor cut and tied the umbilical cord. “Kindly clean your nephew up. Thomas, I need you to hold this lamp here.”  
The room bustled with activity. Lucille cleaned her nephew. The doctor worked on sewing the tears the baby’s shoulders had made. Thomas looked pensively between his wife’s deathly pallor and the doorway to the bathroom.  
Michael tugged on his pant leg. “Papa, is mumma alwight?”  
“Mumma is very tired right now. Your brother was very rough with her.”  
“I kiss her and make it better.” Michael climbed onto the bed and held his mother’s face. “Mumma, you did good job.” She smiled weakly. His smile broke like the sun across his face. He kissed her forehead then laid his head on her chest. She combed her fingers through his hair as best she could.  
“I don’t normally recommend mother’s eating their placenta, but Olivia has lost a great deal of blood. Not enough to be life threatening, but she’ll need her strength for her and the baby.”  
“As archaic as that sounds, anything to help her.”  
“It’s backwoody, yes but I believe it will help. After that, red meat to build up her blood.”  
“Yes, doctor.”  
“And she needs rest. Those stitches won’t hold if she’s up and down those stairs.”  
“We’ve the lift, but she won’t leave this bed unless to toilet.”  
Lucille brought the tiny bundle into the room. “Thomas, go wash your hands so that you may hold your son.” The doctor cleaned his hands in the water then poured it over the towels. He then used those towels to clean Olivia up. The sheets would have to be laundered or tossed. Thomas hurriedly washed his hands, looking at himself in the mirror. His hands still shook as he wiped the blood from his face.  
Olivia looked up as he came back into the room. She looked pale but not as white as she’d been when the doctor arrived. “Come see your son, Thomas.” Lucille looked at him with watery eyes. Her knuckles were white from her twisting of her hands.  
Thomas's terror at the impending loss of his love washed out of him. The picture of his wife and their sons…his smile could’ve rivaled the sun. Lucille looked away. He sat on the bed next to her. His heart still raced with adrenaline.  
Michael tenderly kissed the baby’s head then scooted backward off the bed. “I go night night.” He rubbed his eyes and shuffled from the room. The doctor closed his bag with a click.  
“Congratulations, Sir and Lady Sharpe. I’ll be by at the end of the week to check how mother and child are doing. Lucille.” The doctor nodded to her. The sun peeked in through the curtains. “I will find my way home.”  
“I can take you.”  
“No, no, you’ve had a long night. You look weary, lady. You rest.” She nodded reluctantly. She paused at the door. The sobs tightened her chest and choked her. She glanced back at the couple on the bed. She had longed for that to be her and Thomas for so long. Even when they’d had a child, they never got this heart-warming moment.  
Thomas kissed his wife then took their son. Olivia looked at her. “Lu, don’t go.” Her weak smile looked almost pathetic as she reached for her. “Stay with us.”  
“I can’t…it hurts…”  
“I know, my cherry…but if you walk away, it’ll never heal.”  
Lucille swallowed and squared her shoulders. Thomas looked up from his son to his sister. He could practically see her inner war. “Lucille?”  
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” She ducked her head as she swept from the room. Her hand covered her mouth, cutting off the sobs as she ran for the attic.  
Thomas’s shoulders fell. He sat in the chair, his son against his chest. “I will talk to her.”  
“I don’t think talking will work.” Olivia sat up slowly.  
“Olivia Sharpe, lay down this instance.”  
“I’m not going to sleep in a pool of my own blood. I’m going to take a bath.”  
“But the doctor-“  
“Thomas, put Henry in the cradle and change the sheets yourself. When I’ve bathed, I will rest. But I am not sleeping covered in the marks of my near death. Am I understood?”  
Thomas didn’t answer. He simply gave her his arm as she carefully walked to the tub. He turned the water on for her then helped her into the tub. While she bathed herself, he changed the sheets. He helped her from the tub, dried her off then helped her dress and carried her to the bed.  
He watched her closely. Her skin was paler than normal and dark circles had appeared under her eyes. After his own quick bath, he found her sleeping, propped up with Henry asleep at her breast. He tenderly took their son. Never before had he felt such joy, such accomplishment. He had helped create life. Perhaps that would help to atone for his sins.  
Thomas laid awake next to Olivia for some time. He turned the workmen away when they arrived for the day's work, explaining the previous night’s events and giving instruction to return in two days. When he found himself back in bed, his mind wandered to his sister. No doubt Lucille raged somewhere in the house. Would she break their happy home before it began? Or would her nephew and her sister in law heal her rotting wounds the way they had healed his?


	19. Chapter 19

Thomas felt the space between his new family and Lucille growing. He left like a man dangling over a chasm. On one side, Olivia, Michael and Henry promised of a future filled with love and happiness. On the other, Lucille was everything he’d known of love for so long. They’d crossed the boundaries from what was acceptable too long ago to go back. If Lucille couldn’t join them on the other side, what would he do?  
Thomas and the workmen watched the excavator toil its way through the soil. He couldn’t help his grin. It worked! It bloody worked! And it stayed working. He watched the workman process the red clay until the sun set.  
Lucille sat his plate on the table in the scullery. “It’s probably going to taste awful. I’ve kept it warm, but its likely dry and overcooked now.”  
“That’s no matter. Everything tastes like ambrosia, sister. Henry is healthy and thriving. Olivia is healing. And the excavator is working flawlessly. I’ve sent word to Silas in London to bring his investors out.”  
Lucille had chosen to half-listen to him. The baby’s birth was still raw and festering in the wounds of her heart. But the last statement caught her. “What?”  
Thomas looked at her as he chewed. “They have to see it working, Lucille. They’ll want to know what their money is being spent on.”  
“But what Olivia’s money?”  
“It’s just not enough to mass produce the excavator.”  
“Mass produce? Thomas, what are you talking about? I thought we were reopening the clay mines?” Lucille looked horrified.  
“Yes! We’re going to reopen the mines. But I’ve discussed it with Olivia-“  
“Olivia?” Her indignation dripped off the word.  
Thomas’s chewing slowed then stopped. “Yes, Lucille, Olivia my wife.” Thomas wiped his mouth and rested his arms on the table. “We’re going to reopen the mines like we’ve always planned. But, sister, we can sell excavators to companies around the world. The clay will replenish itself as always, but there may come a time when we tap out the deposits. We need to have a contingency plan. We have Michael and Henry to think about. And any other children Olivia and I have.”  
Lucille turned away abruptly. She couldn’t think about more children between Thomas and Olivia. She shouldn’t be surprised. She should be happy. Fortune smiled on the Sharpe name. A healthy heir to carry on the name and the reopening of the mines in sight.  
“What of Allerdale then?” She began to tick off a list of repairs in her head.  
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Thomas pushed the last of his food around on his plate. His stomach dropped at broaching the subject but it must be done. “I’ve bought another estate.”  
Lucille whirled around. “What! That wasn’t part of the plan!” She slammed both hands on the table, seething in fury.  
“Lucille, look around us.” He stood from the table and walked to her. He grabbed her elbows but she fought him until he gripped her upper arms with bruising force. “Look! This house is rotting. Sinking! We cannot live here forever in sins and secrets. We need to leave. Everything we have, everything we’ve built together will die if we stay here.”  
“We? Or you?” Lucille jerked free and shoved him back. Her venomous tone cut him. His jaw set forward.  
“We. Listen to yourself, Lucille. Can we not shed these shadows and lies?” Thomas reached for her, but she swatted at his hand. “We love you. Olivia loves you. I love you.”  
“Do you still, Thomas?” Lucille threw herself at him. Her fingers dug into his hair, his skull as she pulled him into a demanding kiss. Thomas yielded because it was what she needed. His kiss cooled her raging inferno. He pulled her body against his, his fingertips digging into the figure-hugging satin. She reached between them and cupped his crotch, rubbing it to life.  
They fell back against the table as she unlaced his trousers. His hands clawed at the skirts of her dress. Their cooled passion blazed in need in the both of them. Lucille froze as Michael appeared in the doorway. Thomas turned his head. “Yes, son?”  
“Mummy is crying.”  
“What? Is she hurt?” Thomas stood up and discretely tied his trousers. Lucille smoothed her skirts but made no move to follow.  
“I on’t know.”  
“Mimi, stay here with Aunt Lu. She’ll give you a sweet.” Thomas took the stairs two at time. His mind conjured up the worst things imaginable. He could hear the pitiful sobbing through the door. “Livi, darling, is everything alright?” Thomas pulled up short in the doorway, his hand on the knob of the door. Olivia slept peacefully in the bed. They’d pulled the cradle to her side so feeding was easier and more maneuverable for her solo. The cradle swayed slowly, pushed by an ethereal hand. He followed the hand up a barely visible arm. Hollow sockets sat in the gaunt face of his third wife. “Enola…” The woman faded. “Wait. I’m sorry. It was wrong.”  
Olivia rolled over. “Thomas? Is there something wrong with Henry?” She sat up and started to get out of bed.  
“No, no darling. Lay back down.” He replaced the covers and felt her for fever. “How are you feeling?” He brushed the hair from her eyes. He made note of the action. It was apparently something he was fond of doing. Her eyes were one of his favorite things about her. Deep pools of green blue that reminded him of the tide pools at his Aunt’s when the algae grew out of control.  
“Tired but wonderful. You?”  
“I’ve never been better.” He leaned down and kissed her tenderly. All thoughts of the incident in the kitchen left him. There was only her. “The excavator ran flawlessly again today. Ever since Henry’s birth.”  
“Well, two days hence.”  
“Yes, two days hence Henry’s birth. I sent word to London to Silas to round up his investors.”  
“Round them up, for what?”  
“For a demonstration, of course.” Olivia buried her face in her hands. “Darling? Darling, what is it?”  
“Silas is a dark cloud. I do not want him here.”  
Thomas frowned. “It cannot be helped, my love.” He hated to see the helpless pain and fear on his wife’s face. The sooner he bought out Silas, the better. “What did the doctor say this afternoon?”  
Olivia wiped the tears from her eyes. “That I’m healing nicely. No infection in the tears. He said in a week or two, if everything continues he’ll be able to take out the stitches.”  
“Marvelous!” Tom kissed her happily.  
“So that being said, I want to see the excavator in action tomorrow.”  
“Livi, I don’t th-“  
“Thomas, I have to get out of this bed. Those nattering women on the other side won’t shut up. They’re trying to drive me as mad as Lucille.”  
“You can hear them?”  
“Not fully, no. Just indecipherable whispers. They hate that you’re happy. Even your mother.”  
Thomas scoffed. “That’s no surprise. She was horrible woman. A perfect match to our monster of a father. They ruled this house with fear, not love.”  
“I’ll be glad when my distance from the veil is enough that I can’t hear them.” Thomas looked over at the cradle. “What?” Olivia propped herself up on her elbows.  
“Are you so sure that’s the only reason you hear them?”  
Olivia squinted her eyes at her husband. “You’re not telling me something.”  
“Perhaps they’re getting stronger?” He sighed and raked his fingers through his ebony curls. “I saw Enola.” Olivia frowned. “And it’s not the first time I’ve seen something. I just thought it was stress of worry for your well-being and mine own guilt.”  
“We must leave this place, Thomas. For ourselves and the boys.”  
Thomas grabbed her hands and brought them to his lips. He kissed her fingers and the backs of her hands. “I know. I know, my darling love. The purchase of the estate is going forward.”  
“And Lu?” Olivia gently took her hands from his and smoothed his curls back from his face. Her eyes shone with hope.  
“I don’t know.” He swallowed the lump of his guilt in his throat. “Olivia, Lucille needs-“  
“Hush, my darling man.” She placed her thumbs over his lips. “You need not explain.” He kissed the pads of her thumbs. “Just be ready to perform your husbandly duties when I am good and healed.” He raised an eyebrow. She leaned back on the pillows, pulling him with her. He held himself above her. His arms trembled as her hands wandered, raking nails down his chest. He sucked in a breath as she squeezed him through his trousers.  
“Olivia.”  
“I miss the taste of you on my tongue.” She licked his chin in a flash. “I miss the feel of you thrusting into me.”  
Thomas swallowed. His hips jerked at her massaging. “My darling, you tease me.”  
“I can use my hands…” She kissed his bottom lip, pulling it out with her teeth. “I can use my lips and tongue…” She scooted to reach his throat. “I can use my ass…” She bit his rapid pulse hard and quick. Thomas slammed her to the bed with a hand on her chest. His breath came in a pant. His eyes burned with need for her. A need he would slake with Lucille out of fear of hurting her. That hand pulled the neckline of her night dress down to expose her engorged and tender breast.  
The lustful madness she’d kindled in him drove him forward like a beast. His teeth marked sore flesh with hard and bruising force. Olivia cried in pain and pleasure. Her grip tightened on his cock. He grunted and pushed down into her hand. He held her throat and devoured her mouth with thrusting tongue and scraping teeth. He moaned breathlessly. “I need you, my wife. Urgently and painfully. Why have you done this?”  
“Love is sacrifice, my pretty one.” Thomas searched her eyes. “You said it yourself. She needs you.” Thomas rolled to sit on his side of the bed. “Send Michael to me. I will read him a story by the fire. And you will go to her. Because that is what must be done.”  
Thomas looked to his wife, his inner war etched upon his handsome face. “And if I don’t want to?”  
Olivia’s heart raced. Her blood thundered through her most tender areas. “Do you want Lucille with us?”  
“Yes, of course. She’s my sister. I love her.”  
“Then you must, my love.” Her fingertips slid slowly down his arm to take his hand.  
“Do you want me to?”  
“I want us to be happy, Thomas. Together.”  
“That’s not what I asked.” Olivia turned away from him, drawing her hand back. “Olivia, do you want me to fuck her?” She winced at his biting tone. “Answer me!”  
“No!” Olivia met his burning gaze with tears in her eyes. “No, I do not. But I love her. And she needs us. She needs you more than she needs me.” Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Olivia curled into a fetal position, her soft sobs barely audible over the fire.  
Thomas drew himself up, breathing in through his nose. He stood and walked around the bed. When his wife didn’t look up, he sat down next to her. A tear slid down the side of his nose as he caressed her cheek. “Then I will not.” He waited for her to look at him. “Laudanum to sleep and I will make her see stars.” Olivia nodded. Thomas kissed her temple. “I love you.”  
“I love you.” Thomas rose from the bed. “Send Michael to me.”  
“Yes, my darling.” He fidgeted with his trousers and cuffs as he descended to the sitting room. He could hear Lucille at the piano. How the tables had turned. “Lucille, care for some tea?”


	20. Chapter 20

The workmen worked to repair the floor in the grand foyer. It was difficult work with the ore-rich clay seeping into the porous boards. They wasted nearly a day’s work before tearing up half the floor and relaying it then laying a second layer on top of the first.  
Thomas also paid them to patch the gaping hole in the roof from the attic. For Henry’s sake, as well as appearances. They also removed the rotted floors and put up make-shift barriers for safety. Couldn’t have an investor falling to injury or death.  
Thomas had little time for Olivia, overseeing the excavator and the work on the Hall. Lucille also had little time for her. She frantically went about the Hall, airing out rooms and preparing guest quarters. That left Olivia to young Michael and newborn Henry. She sang and read to them. But Michael was becoming his father’s son and wanted to spend more time with Thomas. Which was to be expected.  
Olivia wandered into the scullery. “Lu, are you sure there is nothing I can do to help?”  
The oven slammed. “I’m sure there isn’t. Go mother Henry.”  
She jerked as if slapped. “That was rather harsh, Lucille.” She turned on her heel and left the room. She was halfway to the stairs before Lucille grabbed her wrist. She turned and was spun into Lucille’s arms. Their lips met then opened. Olivia’s tongue charged forward, tangling with Lucille’s. Her delicate hands flexed on her sister in law’s collarbone. Lucille held the back of Olivia’s head.  
“I’m sorry. I’m horrible. I hate this. I hate everything going on. And Thomas doesn’t seem to understand.”  
Olivia nuzzled her nose along Lucille’s. “But this is what you wanted. The Sharpe mines yielding. The company becoming solvent again. The name meaning something.”  
“All that’s true but…you weren’t part of the plan. And neither was Henry. Nor these investors. We haven’t had guests in Allerdale Hall since Thomas and I were young children. Michael’s age nearly.” Olivia smoothed Lucille’s severely tight hair over her skull.  
“I know. But isn’t love more fulfilling than simply surviving?” Lucille clamped down on the swell of pain and rage than roiled in her belly. “You’re coming with us to Sharpe Manor, aren’t you?”  
Lucille snatched her wrist. “Do you truly want me there?”  
“Yes! You have to ask?” Olivia touched Lucille’s cheek with her hand even though the woman held her wrist. “I love you. Thomas loves you.”  
“Thomas refuses my bed now. Have you any idea how that hurts?” Her grip tightened. She gritted her teeth as her grip on the rage loosened. “He refuses me, who has loved him longer because you say no.”  
Olivia didn’t let the pain show on her face. She knew from Nathaniel, showing pain only gave them more power. “Lucille, you’re hurting me.”  
“Good. You and Thomas both hurt me. Were he not staying my hand-“  
“Would you kill me?”  
Lucille didn’t know anymore. She loved Olivia with a fierceness that was akin to the love for Thomas, but she knew she would chose Thomas if it came down to it. But she no longer knew if she could kill her. She clamped down on Olivia’s wrist, feeling the slender bones grate against each other. A crinkling around her eyes was the only reaction she gave to the pain. “Why? Why does he refuse?”  
“I asked him not to fuck you. I don’t care for fingers or tongue. But I want to be with you, both of you, when you fuck. The three of us…together.” Lucille lost control of her grip. They both felt the bone snap. Olivia cried out in surprise and pain.  
Lucille released her, staring in shock from her hand to Olivia’s. Her sister in law held her broken wrist against her chest. Silent tears chased down her cheeks. “We three? Why?”  
“Because we love each other? Should we not physically love each other? No more secrets. No more hiding.” Lucille took a step back, releasing her other hand. “Think of it, my sweet cherry…Thomas’s cock thrusting into you and my cunt on your lips.” Lucille took another step back. “Or perhaps me impaled on his cock, you on his tongue. Our mouths and hands free to touch each other.”  
“Olivia.”  
“I want that.”  
“Stop.”  
“Thomas wants that.”  
“Olivia, stop.” Lucille shook her head.  
“The three of us, happy, together. Don’t you want that?”  
“Olivia, stop!” Thomas opened the front door as his sister yelled at his wife. Silas stepped into the entryway behind him.  
“Is everything alright?” Thomas frowned, looking between the women he loved. Lucille turned and went back to the scullery without a word. Olivia turned to her husband with tears in her eyes. “Livi, darling?” As if on cue, Henry began to cry from the master bedroom.  
Olivia looked at Silas, her tear-filled eyes showing hate and fear. She had to take a breath against the pain throbbing in her broken wrist before she could speak. “I’ll see to Henry. Silas.” She drew a breath and squared her shoulders, climbing the stairs with her head held high. Thomas noted the way she held her wrist against her chest.  
“If you’ll excuse me, Silas. You may wait in the sitting room, straight ahead.” Thomas touched the man’s elbow and gestured with his doffed hat to the healthy fire straight ahead. He didn’t wait for the older man to move before he took the stairs two at time, catching his wife at the top. Neither said a word until they were behind closed doors.  
Thomas barred her way from the cradle. “What happened?”  
“Let me tend to Henry first.” She reached into the crib, strangling a cry as broken bone rubbed together.  
“Olivia, stop.” He took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her away from the crib. He bodily made her sit in the chair. “I’ll get Henry. Now explain what just happened.” Thomas lifted his infant son from the cradle. He was a month out of the womb but still a small thing. He snuggled into his father’s chest.  
“She hates me more than she loves me. Because I have taken you from her.”  
“Nonsense, Olivia. Lucille loves you.”  
“She broke my wrist, Thomas.”  
“What?” His head snapped up, severing his loving gaze from his son. “She did what?”  
“She was abrasive with me. I left the room. She followed. We kissed. I tried to convince her to come with us to the new manor house. Instead, she grew upset about you refusing her. When I brought up the three of us together, when I told her the things I desire us to do, that’s when she lost control and snapped my wrist.”  
“Take Henry.” He laid their son on her offered arm. “Now, let me look at your wrist.” He pulled up the sleeve of the dress. Her wrist had swollen as wide as the palm of her hand. “I’ll summon the doctor." He drew in a deep breath. "What exactly did you say to her?” Thomas looked up from his crouched position at her feet.  
Olivia met his eyes with unveiled lust and need. She couldn’t heal fast enough. Though he’d grown quite skilled with his lips and tongue, she missed his cock. She missed making love to her husband. “Your cock in her and my cunt on her lips. Me on your cock, her on your tongue.”  
Thomas leaned up and captured her lips almost violently. Never would he have expected to find a woman to love him other than Lucille that he would love in return that accepted the relationship with his sister. Let alone finding one who loved Lucille as well and wished to be with the both of them. He pulled back, running his thumb along her bottom lip. He didn’t meet her eyes. He could only stare at her mouth, the mouth that made his heart soar, his unspoken wishes and desires come true.  
“Have the doctor check your progress while he’s here.” She licked her lips and nodded. He kissed her again, a savage kiss that would have led to more were she not injured and still healing from childbirth. They both looked up at the knock on the door. “Olivia, may I come in?”  
“Aunt Marian!” The door opened and Olivia stood. They swept together in a flutter of cloth. Hugs and kisses were exchanged then Marian turned her sights to the baby in her niece’s arm.  
“This must be young master Henry.”  
“It is.” Olivia beamed up at Thomas who smiled with all the love he felt for his wife and child.  
“A beautiful, strong boy and on the first try.” She smiled up at them. A sadness settled on her. “You two truly love each other.”  
Thomas kissed his wife’s cheek. “We do.”  
“Wonderful. Third time’s the charm.”  
“Or fourth.” Thomas nudged his wife, causing her to laugh.  
“What was that?”  
“Nothing, Aunt Marian. It’s really nothing.” Olivia handed Henry off to her eager aunt.  
“So when should we be expecting more doves like this beautiful boy, hm?”  
Thomas and Olivia looked at each other. He tipped her chin up. “As soon as my wife is healed from our stubborn son and we have moved our family into the new estate.”  
“New estate? But you have Allerdale.” Marian looked up, stunned.  
“I’ll explain over tea. I’m so happy you came.”  
“I’ll fetch you tea since Lucille is being tetchy today. Then I must see to business with Silas.” Thomas left the two women to catch up and trotted down the stairs.  
The foreman waited in the entryway. “Lady Lucille said you wanted to see me, sir.”  
“Yes, can you send one of the men to fetch the doctor for Olivia? She’s broken her wrist and it will need set.”  
“Of course, sir.” The man set off out the front door. Thomas mentally prepared himself for the next two stops.  
“Lucille.”  
“Is she alright?” His chastisement died in his throat when he saw the tears in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to break her wrist. Only to scare her, to hurt her like you two have hurt me.”  
“You broke her wrist, Lucille. It will have to be set. I’ll not tolerate abuse of my wife. You take your anger and upset out on me.” He grabbed her upper arms, that desire to protect Olivia welling up.  
“Believe me, little brother, I will.” She whipped away from him, scurrying about the kitchen. “Send the brute and his wife to the guest rooms on the third floor.”  
“Yes, sister.” Thomas moved up behind his sister, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Would what Olivia suggested be so bad? The three of us, blissfully in love…building a family worthy of the Sharpe name.”  
“Stop it, Thomas. I cannot think on this. It’s too much. After they’ve all gone. Then. Then we will discuss things.” Thomas pressed his lips to her ear then her throat. She closed her eyes, leaning into him. “Might you use those lips betwixt my thighs tonight?” He grinned against her skin.  
“I might…after I’ve used them on Olivia.” Lucille stiffened and stepped away, but Thomas jerked her back against him. “I’ll shove my tongue down your swan’s throat so you can taste her nectar in my mouth.” His hands moved down her arms then closed over her breasts. “And after I have your sweetness on tongue, you’ll suck my cock until I’m spent.” Her breath hitched as his hands moved down her belly and between her legs. “Then I will kiss you until all three of us are on my tongue. I will go to bed and kiss my wife so that she may taste our passions mingled and shared.”  
“Such vile words.” But her breathless tone told him differently.  
“Ah but you are wet, dear sister.” He rubbed her mound through the satin. “I can practically feel it through your skirts. And your heat.” He kissed her throat. “Now be a good poppet and take Livi and her aunt tea.”  
“Yes, Thomas.”  
“And you will apologize…”  
“Of course, Thomas.” Lucille stood at the stove, composing herself. She felt eyes on her and turned. No one was there, but she could feel someone watching her. Had she paid attention, she would have seen the milky silhouette of her mother scowling from the lift.  
Thomas joined Silas in the sitting room. “Silas, my apologies.”  
“What was that all about?”  
“Oh you know how women can be.” He waved off the question.  
“I do.” He frowned but nodded. “And how is my niece?”  
“A broken wrist. Nothing the doctor can’t fix.”  
“Do Olivia and Lucille argue often?”  
Thomas dropped into a chair by the fire. “No, they get on quite well. Lucille is upset about leaving our ancestral home. She meant Livi no harm and Olivia knows that.”  
“A broken wrist is hardly ‘no harm’, Sharpe.”  
Thomas sighed. “Lucille has a temper. She rarely lets it out. Olivia pushes.” He opened his hands and left it at that. “Now, I wanted to discuss the London production of the excavator.”  
“Of course, the sooner we acquire warehousing and production, the better.”  
“We? Oh no, Silas. You might hold 15% of the excavator, but you hold nothing in Sharpe and Son.”  
“I don’t quite follow.”  
“Olivia warned me about you. She said you’re like a disease. You infect companies and consume them, hollow them out and destroy them, leaving rotting carcasses behind for the carrion birds. Their owners left to rack and ruin. So therefore, I took precautions.”  
“Clever boy, but are you so clever to have thought of everything?”  
“Oh I’m not so arrogant to believe I have. But for now, you are merely here to see the working fruits of my labor and to earn money. If you keep your mouth shut and let the machine speak for itself, the investors will line up to give us money for mass production. And we will both be very rich men, indeed.”  
Silas grinned the grin of the wicked. “Alright, I’ll give this one to you. But if I’m a disease, then I’m an opportunistic infection. Do not drop your guard, Sharpe. The moment of your weakness will be the moment of your regret.”  
“That’s fair. Come, I’ll show you to your rooms.” Thomas led the way. He could feel Silas’s eyes on the back of his head. Surely, the man was plotting a way to get rid of him, but Sir Thomas Sharpe was made of stronger stuff than what Silas Lancaster suspected. His parents and Allerdale Hall and Cumbria themselves had seen to that.


	21. Chapter 21

Marian Lancaster woke to a cold touch on her face. She opened her eyes, not moving while they adjusted to the darkened room. The fire had burned low and the room had grown cold while she slept. She sat up and looked around slowly. The room was as it had been. “Silas?” She knew she wouldn’t receive an answer. Her husband had stopped coming to his wife for the duties of the marriage bed long ago. She heard a soft crying outside her door. She threw back the covers and pulled on her dressing gown. “Olivia? Michael?” An empty hallway greeted her on the other side of the door.  
A voice floated through her head. She couldn’t be sure she heard. She quite possibly just thought it. Her own guilt gnawing at her in this barren northern land perhaps? ‘Your own daughter…how could you? Disgusting…vile…monstrous…’ It became clearer. Hissed admonishments in four separate voices assaulted her as she hunted for the soft crying. She climbed the stairs to the attic. The grunts of a man in the telltale throws of orgasm came from one direction. She strained to hear the crying but it had stopped.  
Marian had fully expected to find Silas rutting on the sister, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. The torrent of voices in her head hurled vile words out of her mouth as she stepped into Lucille’s room to find her on her knees before Thomas.  
“Disgusting! Abominations! I’m taking my niece out of here.” She turned on her heel and stormed from the room, leaving brother and sister shocked.  
“Stop her. She’ll ruin everything.”  
Lucille popped up and ran after the older woman. Her lovely face twisted into a grin, the visage of her madness bearing true. She snatched up an old discarded toy and swung it with all her strength at the back of Marian’s head. The woman fell to the floor at the top of stairs, her body going into convulsions.  
“Thomas, help me with her.”  
“What are you doing?”  
“She can’t simply disappear. People will begin to ask questions.”  
“But Olivia will be devastated.”  
“If we don’t do this, you will lose Olivia. And not just her, Michael and Henry. We’ll lose our home, our land, our company, our name. Our barely respectable reputation will be in tatters. We will lose everything. You said it yourself. She will ruin it. Now. Help me.”  
Thomas furrowed his brow, but he knew she was right. Would he tell his wife? “I cannot. I will not have party to this. I will not keep this a secret from her. I’m leaving her alive so I cannot lie.”  
Lucille slapped him with a closed fist. His lip split, oozing bright red blood and perfuming the air with it. “Father was right. You are weak.” Thomas set his jaw. His nostrils flared in pain and his own rage. But he did not rise to her baiting, whether or not she believed her own words. He left his lip to bleed down his chin as he descended the stairs. Lucille stared after him. Shock, rage, guilt and regret clawed at her belly. Her chest heaved as she began to cry.

Thomas lay in bed next to his sleeping wife. Her eyes pinched in pain from her wrist. The doctor had set it but wasn’t about to give her anything for the pain due to her breastfeeding Henry. He’d also told them that as long as Lady Sharpe was up to it, they could resume martial congress. Lady Sharpe had not been up to it. Not with Silas in the house. They had a tendency to be loud now that Lucille was aware of their intimacy. And she’d told Thomas that she couldn’t bear the thought of her uncle hearing her keen her orgasm to the roof.  
He watched her chest rise and fall. They’d said no more secrets, no more lies. So why did he feel so guilty about leaving Lucille to deal with Marian? Because he’d chosen Olivia over Lucille. Something he’d been doing more and more since they’d married.  
A loud clang brought him upright in bed. The scream that followed woke his wife. They both heard the sickening thud and crunch that ended the scream. They threw back the covers, Olivia right on Thomas’s heels as he opened the door. He looked out over the banister to see Marian on the new floor. The clay had not yet seeped in enough to cushion the fall. Blood seeped from her mouth and nose and cracked skull.  
“No!” Olivia ran around the second floor to the stairs.  
“Lucille!” Thomas hurried down after his wife. His sister appeared at the top of the stairs on the attic floor. “Come down! There’s been an accident.”  
Silas threw open the door to his room. “Come now, what’s the meaning of this?” He shouted down the hall. Olivia dropped to her knees and skidded across the floor and into the blood. Her hands fluttered frantically as she felt for breathing and heartbeat.  
Olivia pulled her up into her lap, rocking her and wailing. She felt her aunt’s skull shift like the broke shell of a nut. Thomas turned away from his wife’s anguish. “Silas!”  
The big man drew up short at the banister. Emotions chased themselves back and forth as he slowly descended the stairs from the third floor. His voice was calm when he spoke, standing over the women. “What happened?”  
“We heard a scream then a thud.”  
“And Lucille?”  
“I’m afraid I heard only the scream. But I thought it was the wind from the coming storm through my window panes.” She held her dressing gown closed. Silas took a long look at her. She looked to her brother. She couldn’t be sure but Silas’s look didn’t feel suspect, more like appraisal.  
“We’ll have to fetch a doctor in the morning. And the constable.”  
“Of course.”  
Silas looked down at his dead wife and felt almost nothing. Their children had preceded them in death. If he were being honest, he felt free. “Does anyone have any idea what happened?” Brother and sister shook their heads, remaining silent. “Could she have fallen from the third floor?”  
“No, she would have fallen to the landing.”  
“You know this how?”  
Silas turned on Lucille but it was Olivia who spoke. “Because I fell from the third floor banister while pregnant with Henry.” Olivia looked up at her uncle then back down to the cooling woman in her lap. She brushed the hair from her face. “She would have had to have fallen from higher.”  
“Surely not the roof struts. How would she have gotten up there?”  
Thomas looked down at his wife, her tears falling like rain. His guilt and his relief wrestled for dominance. He looked down at his feet then at the big man. “The workmen left an access ramp but that was clearly marked for safety reasons. She wouldn’t have accidentally stumbled up there.”  
“What are you saying, Sharpe?” Silas stepped up chest to chest with his nephew in law. “Are you saying my wife killed herself? Jumped to her death while we all slept?”  
Olivia sniffed then laid her aunt’s head gently on the floor. “She did seem melancholy since your arrival. She kept telling me she was glad Thomas and I were happy and in love.” Olivia looked down at her bloody night dress then up at Thomas. “We can’t just leave her here, my love. Michael will see.”  
Thomas shouldered past Silas and took Olivia’s bloody hands in his. “I will move her.”  
“I guess it is best that the boy not see. Lucille, would you be so kind as to clean up the blood?”  
“But the constable?”  
“I will explain about Michael.” Though Olivia’s sorrow did not move him, the thought of causing the boy upset bothered him.  
Thomas awkwardly picked up Marian’s body and walked to the scullery to use the lift. He laid her in her head and covered her with care, bringing the sheet over her face. He jerked when her milky eyes snapped open and she grabbed his wrist in a painful clutch. “There’s nothing to stop him now. Keep Olivia from him. Promise me.” Her voice hissed eerily from dead vocal cords. “Promise me.”  
“I promise.” Her eyes closed and her hand fell limp to the bed. Thomas stood back waiting for her to move again. When she did not, he covered her back up and closed the door. He heard Silas talking to himself through the door but couldn’t quite make out the words.  
Thomas found Olivia standing in the master bath. Water ran full blast from the faucet. Her bottom lip trembled as she looked up him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest. She didn’t cry. She merely trembled. Marian’s words echoed through his mind.  
“I’m so sorry, Olivia.”  
The first time she asked him, he couldn’t hear her. When he didn’t answer, she asked again louder, her hands fisted against his chest. “Did you do it?”  
“No, my darling, no, I would never hurt you this badly.”  
“Lucille then.” She hit his chest with both fists. “Why? Why, Thomas? Why?” She hit his chest with each word then shoved him away. “Answer me.” She trembled bodily. “Why her?”  
Thomas dropped his hands to his side. “She walked in on Lucille and I.”  
“Doing what?”  
“Lucille was…” He still had trouble saying these things so openly. “She had my cock in her mouth.”  
A tension in Olivia eased. “Is that all?”  
Thomas crossed to her. “Did you think I was fucking her?” She tried to look away but he caught her chin. “You did.”  
“I did.”  
“I told you I wouldn’t. I haven’t.”  
Olivia buried her face in his chest. “It was too much like Arthur. Too much like Nathaniel. I’m sorry, Thomas. When you’re inside her, I want to be there.”  
“You will.” He felt the jump in her pulse. “You want to watch me fuck her?” She looked up at him. “Do you?”  
“Yes…” She leaned into his hand. “Then I want you to fuck me. Preferably while I make her see stars.”  
Thomas swallowed. “Then that is what we will do.”  
“And Lu will go for this?”  
“Yes.” He thumbed her bottom lip. “She denies she wants it but I see it in her eyes. I feel how wet she becomes when I tell her what will happen with the three of us.”  
Olivia looked up at him. “I love you, Thomas.”  
He smiled. “I love you, Olivia. You will never know how much.” He kissed her deeply, pulling her body against his with his other arm. Water began to overflow the tub, forcing them to break the kiss. He turned off the water.  
Thomas took his time undressing her, kissing every inch of skin that was exposed but not covered in dried blood before he helped her into the tub. He sat in the water on the riser as washed her body then her hair.  
“Thomas, never make me go to London without you.”  
“Olivia-“  
“Just promise me!”  
“I promise.” Thomas frowned, Marian’s words echoing once more through his mind. Silas was an intimidating man, but he wasn’t anything to fear. Unless Silas Lancaster was cut from the same cloth as his and Lucille’s father. Olivia’s grief for her aunt seemed short-lived to her husband and rooted in the fear of her uncle. The promises he'd made tonight, the choice he'd made, his wife's fear of her uncle...no, Thomas Sharpe would not be sleeping this night.


	22. Chapter 22

The mood in Allerdale Hall had fallen to dark intensity. Not only was Olivia grieving her aunt, she had an anxious fear of her uncle that radiated off her. The whites of her eyes shined whenever they were in the same room with each other, and she always found an excuse to leave.  
The investors began to arrive the day after Marian’s unfortunate death. In pairs and entourages, they steadily filled the guest rooms of Allerdale Hall. Something that had never happened before. The workmen cleared the last of the debris from the collapsed wing. By the end of the week, the investors had seen enough of the excavator in action to be prepared for Thomas’s presentation, which he delivered in the ballroom to thunderous applause.  
Silas sat dour-faced in the back of the room. He had grown to dislike Thomas Sharpe. The man was affluent, had a loving wife and sons, a sprawling manor house as well as an expansive ancestral home, a lovely sister, an old money name, drive, ambition, creativity and intelligence and the strength of will. Everything that Silas himself had once been, that had become corrupted and aged. Despite his dislike and envy of his nephew-in-law, the boy was smart and charming. By the end of the presentation, he had the investors eating out of the palm of his hand, ready to sign on to become millionaires on the back of this young brilliant mind.  
He felt a cool brush along the back of his neck, causing him to shiver. Again, it came like fingers along his hairline. He brushed it away but it returned. He turned around and face to face with the grisly death mask of his late wife. He gave a shout and jumped to his feet, toppling his chair. The room became silent and turned to the commotion.  
“Mr. Lancaster, are you well?”  
His wide eyes looked around frantically. He became aware of their scrutiny and set his mouth in a line. He cleared his throat and adjusted his cravat. “I’m fine. I thought I felt a spider on my neck.” An uncertain chuckle spread through the crowd and died quickly. “Excuse me, I need a moment.” He calmly yet purposefully strode from the room. When he was well away from the ballroom, he leaned against the wall.  
Silas furiously untied his cravat, struggling for air. There was no way he could have seen what he saw. His head snapped up at the sound of heels on hardwood. Lucille carried a tea set with a hired maid in tow with another. “Mr. Lancaster, are you quite alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  
He waved away her silly but accurate notion. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”  
“Are they ready for tea then?” She inclined her head to the ballroom.  
“Yes, that brother of yours has just finished. He’s a talented wordsmith, very charming salesman. He’ll be a wonderful face for the company.”  
Lucille beamed with pride. “Thomas is astounding, isn’t he? And a wonderful role model for Michael and Henry.” She turned on her heel and led the maid into the ballroom to serve the tea. He pushed off the wall, grinding his teeth as he made his way to his guest room.

Thomas settled into the bed, tucking the blankets around him. He sighed deeply and nestled into the pillows. “Something wrong, darling?” He looked to the fire, to his beautiful, loving wife. A smile broke his tired frown. She was the picture of loveliness back-lit by the flames as she rocked and bounced their infant son to sleep.  
“Just a long day, my sweet girl. And a long time coming. I felt as if this day would never come.” The fire behind her cracked and flared. “Livi, step away from the fire, darling.” Her brow furrowed and she turned. “Olivia, step away!”  
The fire surged forth and enveloped Olivia and Henry. She turned, curling her body around the baby to protect him. The fire wrapped around her throat and pulled her up and back. The baby screamed. Olivia couldn’t. Flames shot from her mouth and her eyes blackened. Thomas leapt from the bed and ran for them. The tentacles of fire jerked her back into it, her black eyes begging him to save her, her arm reaching out to him. The flames surged forward again and Lucille emerged from the inferno.  
Thomas jerked awake. He looked around the bedroom. Olivia slept curled on the bed, facing away from him. Henry slept peacefully in the cradle. He stood abruptly and grabbed Olivia’s shoulders. He turned her over, scaring her awake.  
“Thomas?” He searched her eyes for any hint of black. “Husband, what’s wrong?”  
“Nightmare.” His hands became tender on his shoulders once he found her unharmed and normal. “They’ve been coming with increasing frequency.”  
Olivia touched his cheek with the backs of her fingers. Thomas leaned into her hand, opening her palm. Her thumb caressed the stark bone on his cheek. “Come to bed, my love. Let me chase away that dark sadness in your eyes.”  
Thomas kissed her palm. “Yes, my love.” He stripped at the side of the bed then slid under the covers on top of her. Eager kisses consumed them as their bodies rubbed together, awakening desire in them both. He braced himself on his elbow so that he could look at her face. “I had thought and felt myself dead inside. For years, rotting away as this house rotted.” He caressed her bottom lip then her chin. “Then I found you. You gave me life. I cannot imagine my life without you.”  
Olivia’s heart swelled. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Their love was the love of fairy stories and romantic novels. He kissed her before she could speak, his hand held her jaw so that he could have his way with her mouth. His thumb drew a line down her chin. And his hand followed that line down the center of her body where he cupped her cunt through the night dress.  
“Are you well, my sweet girl?” He rubbed her tenderly through the fragile fabric.  
“More than.” She opened her legs and lifted her hips into his hand. Thomas massaged her mound as his cock grew long and hard, pressed against her hip. He climbed between her legs and nestled his thighs between hers. They rocked against each other, thigh muscles flexing against thigh muscles. He teased the length of his cock along her slit, coating himself with her arousal.  
Thomas watched her face as he pushed inside of her, agonizingly slow. Her face pinched in a flash of pain as her body stretched around him, pulling on that freshly healed flesh. “If you need to stop…”  
She licked her lips and shook her head. “No, don’t stop…just go slow until I say.”  
Thomas laced his fingers with hers. Her knuckles pressed white against his hand. “Livi-“  
“No Thomas, don’t stop.” When he rested pelvis to pelvis against her, he stopped. Her face smoothed out and her fingers eased. Pleasure washing away the sharp pains. Her walls rippled around him and she arched off the bed. “Go, my husband.”  
“Yes, my sweet girl.” Thomas eased back and in, watching her face. Her mewling moans grew louder and louder with each slow motion of his cock along her slick walls. His body, sheened in sweat, shook with his control. Her nails bit into his hand. He hissed then crushed his mouth to hers.  
“Go, Thomas, let go!” She gasped against his lips. He grunted in affirmation before his hips ruthlessly pounded into her. They moaned and cried into each other’s open mouth, eyes closed against the onslaught. It was almost like their first time again, only he was in control.  
He growled and pulled her legs up around his waist, rutting almost violently into her. The need to possess her, to claim her surged forth. She was his. His! Obscenely, he wanted the investors to hear his wife pleasurable screams, her satisfied moans. Especially Silas. Her nails marked his back, perfuming the room with the cooper rich scent of his blood, pearled in lines down his back.   
He locked their hands together and pinned them above her head, burying his face in her neck. Olivia winced at the pressure on her broken wrist. But it was soon forgotten as her body tensed underneath his. He growled and struck like a viper, sinking his teeth into the bend of her neck and shoulders. She howled in pain and pleasure, his teeth pushing her over the edge.  
“God, Thomas, yes!”  
His teeth stayed clamped on her until his hips stuttered with his own release. She’d be bruised, dark and angry in the morning. And she would wear a low collar to show off her elegant throat with his mark upon it. He kissed the sore flesh gently; licking it like an animal would a wound. His hips stroked still. He wanted to take her again. And again until she begged him to stop. His lips trailed kisses up her throat until he found her mouth.  
Olivia’s thighs squeezed around him, drawing a groan from him that broke the kiss. “Did I hurt you?” He held her jaw, searching her for signs of distress.  
“Only in the best ways.” She smiled, dazed from the sensations coursing through her. He kissed her again, sucking her in to the marrow of his soul. “You dastardly man, you made me yowl like a cat in heat.”  
He grinned and kissed her ravenously again. “If I have my way, we’ll be expecting again by the end of summer.”  
It was her turn to grin. “You’ll have to make time to fuck me good and proper then, Sir Sharpe.”  
“There’s always time for that, Lady Sharpe.” He trailed his fingers down to her blossoming bruise. “Like now for instance?” She bit her bottom lip and pulled him down to kiss. Their lips had just barely touched when Henry chose that moment to wake. “You’ve woken the boy.”  
Olivia laughed. “I’ve woken the boy? You were the one grunting like a madman atop me.” Thomas laughed and tickled her side. She screamed in delight and scurried out of bed. “I need to see to Henry. You calm yourself, Thomas.” Thomas sighed and lay back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head. Things were beginning to look up for the Sharpes.


	23. Chapter 23

The carriages began to arrive just after breakfast ended. The investors left in the reverse order that they had arrived until all that remained was Silas.  
“I expect you at the funeral, Olivia.” The big man smoothed his cravat into his waistcoat then buttoned the buttons on his overcoat.  
“It’s my Aunt, Silas. She raised me. Why wouldn’t I be?”  
“Well, it’s common knowledge that you and I are not on good terms and never have been.” He looked down his nose at her. With Marian gone, he need only get rid of Sharpe, and there would be nothing stopping him from having everything he wanted.  
“Yes well, that’s not going to stop me from attending my Aunt’s funeral.”  
“You’ll be staying at the house, won’t you?”  
Thomas pulled his wife’s body against his abruptly to keep her vehement refusal silent. “Yes, of course. Olivia, the boys and I will stay a few days in London.” He looked down at his wife, letting his words sink in to his uncle-in-law. “Perhaps a bit of shopping to brighten her somber mood and a trip to the travel agent, eh?”  
“The travel agent, darling? Whatever for?” Her brow furrowed in confusion, her nose scrunching up.  
Thomas smiled. “A surprise, but now is as good a time as any to tell you. I’m booking a trip to Paris to honor our anniversary.”  
“Paris!” Olivia squealed and threw her arms around him, kicking up both her feet as he held her about the waist. Silas completely momentarily forgotten, she kissed her husband with unrestrained passion.   
Silas cleared his throat so the pair would break apart. “Well, I’ll see you at the end of the week then.” He doffed his hat at the couple then climbed into the carriage. Sir and Lady Sharpe waved to the carriage then resumed their kiss before he picked her up. Olivia gave a startled yelp and wrapped her arms around his neck.  
Lucille stood in the foyer, rocking and bouncing baby Henry. “What’s all this about?” Her brow pinched.  
“Thomas is taking me to Paris.”  
“Paris?” Lucille’s expression was hurt and abandoned before she smoothed it into a neutral mask. “Whatever for?”  
“All of us, actually.” He set Olivia on her feet. “Henry is still at the breast, so he must come. We cannot take Henry and not take Michael. That would be unfair.” He grinned between the two women. “And we cannot leave Lu here by herself in this big, old house with only the workmen to keep her company.”  
“Splendid!” Olivia flounced to Lucille and pulled her into a surprised kiss. “Think of it, Lu! The year’s new fashions will be on display everywhere. And there will be the finest lingerie…” Olivia trailed her fingertips down Lucille’s throat to her collarbone. The tip of her tongue pressed between her teeth. She looked up at her from under her lashes.  
“I’ve no need for lingerie.”  
“No?” Lucille raised an eyebrow at her sister-in-law’s pout, but was otherwise unmoved. “Don’t you want to look even more enticing to Thomas and I?” Lucille sucked a breath in shock that their secret be spoken of so openly. Though how open was the involved parties and an infant barely two months old?  
Thomas moved up behind his wife, resting her hands on her shoulders. His eyes pleaded with Lucille to be more open. “Yes, Lucille. The few times Olivia has deigned to wear the few pieces she has, I could scarce keep my hands off her.”  
“So I am to be subjected to pawing from the both of you?” Her eyes flashed with inexplicable and undeniable want, but she chose to deny it. “This is no game!”  
“We’re not saying it is, Lucille.” Thomas felt Olivia tense beneath his hands.  
Olivia carefully took her baby from her overwhelmed sister-in-law. “Please, my cherry. Find joy with us.” She turned away before she could see the tears in her eyes. Michael looked from his mother to his aunt before following her up the stairs.  
“Mummy, why you cwy?” Olivia sat in the large chair and settled her son in for his next feeding. Michael climbed into the chair next to her, waiting for her to answer. He laid his head in her lap.  
Olivia wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “Aunt Lu hurt mummy’s feelings. That’s all. I’ll be fine, poppet, don’t you worry.”  
“I tell Anloo to polygize.”  
Olivia smiled, smoothing his auburn hair around his ear. “No, poppet, that’s not necessary. Aunt Lu didn’t mean to. She’s just being stubborn.” His breathing evened out and before long, Michael fell fast asleep on his mother’s lap. Henry soon followed with a full belly and snuggled against his mother’s chest. Olivia closed her eyes, gently smoothing the hair on her sons’ heads.  
Thomas stormed into the room, his hand a vise around Lucille’s wrist. They’d shared whispered, heated words after Olivia’s subdued tearful exit with the boys. He seized her shoulders and made her look at his sleeping wife and sons. “Look at them, Lucille. Look.” She turned away at the heart-melting scene. It broke her heart in a way Thomas would never understand. Thomas snatched her chin and forced her to look. “Look at them. They only want to love you. Why are you being so obstructive of this?” Would his sister ever understand how heavy a weight her love was to carry?  
“Because she has everything I’ve ever wanted, Thomas. Can’t you see that?” Lucille wrenched away from him. “You, your child, your future. You will never understand.”  
“I may not but I know this. You can have a different future. We can.” Thomas reached for her again, but she backed away out the door. “Why can't you let it go, Lucille? Why do you cling to desiccated dreams? We can have new dreams, if you would give it a chance.”  
Lucille backed away. “Just leave it alone, Thomas.”  
Thomas watched his sister’s back retreat down the hall. He sighed and combed his hands through his hair. He looked up and blinked, tilting his head as his body turned. The wispy figure stared down her nose at him with a hard glare. A face he’d recognize anywhere. “Mother?” He took a step toward the banister, but she faded into the shadows beyond on the third floor railing.

Michael sat next to Thomas at his work bench. They were practicing the names of the tools. Each stumbled pronunciation from the two year old made Thomas smile. They would work on it more as he grew up, but Michael liked to use his hands for more than typical toddler destruction. And he liked to see his father glow with pride.  
The red lady had been watching them from the doorway for a long time. Every time Thomas turned to see what his son was looking at, she’d turn her veiled face away. Michael scooted off the chair and went to the door. She didn’t move as he approached, but her body jerked with static movement.  
“Hello.” Michael looked up at her and offered his hand. She left a red smear of clay on his hand and turned out of the room. “Wait! Come back!” Michael ran out into the empty hall. He looked around then turned to his father. Thomas had risen from his chair when Michael had offered his hand to an empty doorway. “Papa, the wed lady. Whewre she go?”  
Thomas took Michael’s hand, smearing the clay more as he pushed his thumb through it. He tried to keep his uncertain fear from his face as he looked at his son. “I don’t know, son.” He looked up the hall then down. “Tell me, Michael. What did the red lady look like? Did she look like my mother’s picture in the room where Aunt Lu plays piano?”  
The boy shook his head. “Nu-uh, I not see her face. She tall, like you.”  
“Margaret…” He looked down the hall once more. “Come on, let’s go find mummy.”  
“Yes, papa.” He put his hand in his father’s and tugged him to the lift.

Lucille looked down at her hands in her lap. They twisted each other continuously. Olivia sat on the sofa next to her with her hand on her knee. She had tears in her eyes and her bottom lip trembled. Lucille ached to kiss it. To kiss that sadness away and make her smile.  
“Please, Lucille. We have to try. Thomas and I both love you.”  
“This makes me very uncomfortable. I don’t-“ She looked away, wishing she could forget all this and kill her. They had her money and her sons. They didn’t need her anymore. Oh, but they did. Thomas wouldn’t stand for it. And Lucille wasn’t sure she could do it anymore. She loved Olivia. “I don’t want to talk about this.”  
Olivia squared her shoulders and her hurt fell away, anger taking hold of Lucille’s rejection. “Well, I don’t bloody well care.” Lucille snapped her head around. “You’re being a spoiled, selfish cunt, Lucille Sharpe. You hurt your brother and I as well as you in your practice of denial and refusal.” Olivia couldn’t explain or justify the slap that followed, only that she’d had enough. Thomas pulled up short in the doorway. The crack shocked the Sharpe siblings. Lucille held her cheek, her jaw dropped open. “If you wind up alone in this decrepit mansion, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”  
Olivia spun around and stormed out. “Livi?”  
“Don’t, Thomas. Just don’t.” She pushed her way past him and ran for the front door. She needed air. Old, familiar hurts from Nathaniel's rejections throbbed at the backs of Lucille’s rejection. Lucille claimed this was no game, yet she toyed with Olivia’s affections as surely as a cat toyed with a ball of twine.  
Thomas whirled on his sister. “What did you do?” Michael ran after his mother.  
Lucille stared daggers at her brother. “She slaps me and you ask what I have done? You’re ridiculous.”  
Thomas narrowed his eyes. The elephant in the room, so to speak, Olivia had tried to convince Lucille to join them. “No, you’re ridiculous.” Lucille flinched. “You say you love us, yet you refuse to allow us both to love you physically. Oh you kiss and touch her and we know very well what we do, but you deny us all the one thing we all want. We want to make love to you. Is that so hard, Lucille? Love! Love!” He took a frustrated step forward, reaching out for her.  
“I can’t.”  
Thomas dropped his arms. “Can’t? Or won’t?” Thomas followed his wife and son, leaving his sister with stinging pride to her thoughts and feelings.

Lucille paused in the hallway. A chorus of whispers surrounded her. She turned in a complete circle. Olivia, Thomas and the boys had gone down to the post office, leaving her alone in the Hall. She shouldn’t be hearing anything. She should be alone. Unless one of the workmen had taken the notion to toy with her.  
The door to one of the empty rooms creaked open slowly. The whispers drew her to the slice of daylight on the other side of the door. Lucille swallowed her ludicrous fear. This was her home. She’d grown up here, lived her whole life here except for those years in the institution. There was nothing for her to fear.  
She pushed the door open and froze. Thomas, naked and glistening with sweat, writhed beneath Olivia. Her breasts bounced as she rode her husband, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Thomas stared up at his wife with amazement. His hands roamed her breasts and belly. Scarlet clay ran from Olivia’s eyes and mouth, streaking her pale flesh with the brilliant red. Thomas’s hands smeared the clay. Her hands smeared the clay that ran onto his chest. He groaned and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they’d gone red as the clay.  
Lucille didn’t remember moving forward, but she stood at the foot of the bed. Thomas rolled Olivia onto her back. Lucille looked away only to find herself still looking at the bed. But Thomas and Olivia were not alone; the rotting, clay-stained corpses of Thomas’s late wives had joined them. Their skeletal hands caressed the pale, red-streaked flesh of the two she loved. She covered her mouth and ran from the room. The door slammed behind her.  
Lucille looked up and turned back to the door. She grabbed the knob and forced the door open. Nothing. An empty room filled with sheet-covered furniture. She slammed the door shut and hurried down the hall. No way could or would she speak of this.


	24. Chapter 24

The wick of the candle flared. Olivia had taken great pains to make the room just so. She’d chosen a room on the third floor. The curtains were drawn, creating a comfortable darkness. A darkness which crowded at the edge of the warm candlelight. Thomas and Lucille had been surprised when they’d opened the door. They’d never seen so many candles in such a small space. She’d brought up the candelabrum from the ballroom and hers from storage.  
The kisses began, slow and sweet. Olivia and Thomas first, their hands taking familiar liberties with each other’s person. Her delicate hand stroked him in the confines of his trousers. His large hand palmed her breast, not pulling or pinching too much lest she leak milk on his hand. His open mouth found her bare shoulder, brushing teeth against the fading bruise. He opened his eyes and pinned his sister with a predatory gaze.  
Thomas pulled away from Olivia and spun her around. He snatched his sister’s hand and pulled her forward, sandwiching Olivia between them. Lucille stiffened but Thomas leveled her with a stern look. She’s been the dominant naturally, being older. But since he and Olivia had shared their desire for the three of them to be together, he’d grown bolder, more resolute in his wants and needs.  
Olivia kissed Lucille’s throat and jaw then slipped her tongue between Lucille’s thin lips. Thomas bit the inside of his cheek. His chest swelled. He could hardly contain himself. His greatest desire was one step closer. The instance Lucille pulled back, Thomas’s tongue replaced Olivia’s. Wife made room for husband. She drew Lucille’s night gown over her head from behind.  
Thomas and Olivia kissed and caressed Lucille from front and back. Wife kissed neck while husband kissed mouth, their hands kneading her breasts. Lucille gasped at the tandem stimulation. Her knees buckled then caught when Thomas teased his fingertips over her clit. Olivia gave her no mercy as she pushed her fingers inside Lucille’s wet cunt.  
Lucille leaned back against Olivia. Thomas broke from his sister’s mouth to take his wife’s. Lucille closed her eyes, her moans dripping from her lips like honey as they drew her closer and closer to release. His fingers traced steady pressure on her swollen clit while Olivia’s fingers stroked her from behind. Her knees buckled when she barked out her orgasm. Thomas broke from Olivia and swept his sister into his arms.  
He carried her to the bed and laid her down in the center. He looked askance from his wife, his hands resting on the laces of trousers. She nodded and settled into a chair she’d turned to face the bed, wantonly draping her leg over the arm. He shed the trousers then climbed over Lucille. She glanced at Olivia. Desire and nerves flared in her stark cheeks.  
Olivia had drawn her night dress up, exposing her wet cunt to her eager fingers. One hand caressed her engorged breast, the other danced over her darkened labia. Thomas turned Lucille back to him and claimed her with his tongue and his cock in the same instance, drinking down her shout. Lucille closed her eyes. This, she’d missed this with him for so long. She should be bothered that Olivia watched them. But she felt almost triumphant. Thomas had come home.  
Olivia licked her lips as she played with herself, her hips mimicking Thomas’s thrusts. Need twisted in her belly as she watched his back and ass flex with each thrust. Their moans became of choir of desire and lust. Lucille shouted her release and fell limp on the bed. Thomas met his wife’s gaze. The both of them cried out their release together. Thomas looked to Lucille and kissed her gasping lips before he rolled onto his back. Lucille lay panting, staring at the ceiling. Perhaps she’d been wrong. Perhaps they could be happy together.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the Lancaster house. The footman set down the stool and opened the door. Olivia didn’t move. Thomas looked from the open carriage door to his wife.  
“Livi, we’re here.”  
“I know.”  
He laid his hand over hers, eclipsing their white knuckle grip on her gloves. “We can return to Allerdale.”  
“No, I owe this much to Marian.” She drew in a deep breath then let it slowly out. “I’m ready.” The footman took her hand helped her down the steps. She turned to take Michael and set him on his feet. A valet took Henry’s bassinet. Thomas unfolded himself and tugged down the edges of his coat. His hand found Olivia’s. The secure warmth of his fingers entwined with hers grounded her. “Don’t let go.”  
“Never, my love.” She looked up at him with shining eyes, tears trembling in her lashes. He smiled tenderly down at her then leaned to take her lips in a sweet, chaste kiss. They strode in the house, hand in hand. Michael beamed at his parents from the strong embrace of his uncle and under the brim of a top hat.  
“Mumma! Papa! Unca got me hat!”  
“So he did.” Thomas took his son, who reached for him with the pleased as punch smile on his two year old face. “You look quite dashing, son.”  
“Jus like you, papa!”  
Thomas looked him square in the eyes. “Inside voice, Michael.”  
“Yes, Papa.”  
Silas opened his arms to his niece but she turned her attention to the boy. “Sometimes, he can’t hear himself speak so he talks louder, uncle. We have to remind him that we can hear him just fine.”  
“A sickness in the head.”  
Olivia turned to him, her eyes filled with hate. “No, there is enough of that in other members of our family. He’s deaf in his right ear. The doctor confirmed it. A defect of his parenting, I’m afraid.” She tucked her gloves into her hat and handed it to the maid that waited to the side of the group. “Matilda, could you have Henry’s cradle moved into Thomas’s and my room?”  
Matilda stammered. “Which room, miss? Yours or Sir Thomas’s?”  
Olivia felt her Uncle’s gaze between her shoulder blades. “You must be confused. Thomas and I share a room.”  
“That wasn’t the instructions we were given, miss. Begging your pardon, Lady Olivia.”  
“It’s alright, Matilda. Consider these your new instructions. Have Henry’s cradle and my things moved into Sir Thomas’s room.”  
“Yes, your ladyship.”  
Olivia turned slowly, looking past her husband. “How dare you.”  
“Olivia-“ Thomas laid his hand on her shoulder.  
“She’s not even the bloody ground yet! And with my husband and children under this very roof!” Everyone in the foyer and surrounding rooms froze. “I hate you, Silas Lancaster.”

The incident of the Sharpes’ arrival whispered through the house. The newer servants were confused by the animosity between Silas and Olivia, but the old servants knew. They didn’t spread the gossip. It would only add fuel to the fire. A fire that burned Silas with sick desire and Olivia with bottomless rage.  
The comings and goings of the Lancaster house became hectic the day of the funeral. Olivia and Thomas and their boys were the talk of London high society. They made a perfect picture in mourning black. The brilliant baronet, his wealthy bride and their handsome sons were invited to countless occasions for their stay in London. But polite refusal was acceptable because of young master Henry’s tender age and the recent tragedy of Marian Lancaster’s death.  
Silas informed the Sharpes in a booming voice that he’d be spending the evening at the club and he didn’t give a good goddamn what they did. Thomas and Olivia could tell he was in his cups before he slammed the door behind him.  
Olivia watched the carriage trot off from the window. “Livi, I know I’ve told you I wouldn’t press about the relationship between you and your uncle, but the servants are whispering.”  
“He’s sick. Twisted and disgusting. His death won’t come swift enough for my liking.”  
Thomas closed his book and patted his lap. “Come here, my sweet.” Color flared on her cheeks. They’d been resigned to hands and dry humping since they’d arrived. Want clenched her lower belly. She sat on his lap, flaring her skirt out around his legs, so they disappeared in a waterfall of black satin. He swallowed when his fingertips slipped beneath the layers of fabric to touch her bare ass.  
“When I turned thirteen and began to bleed, the girl who’d I grown up thinking was my sister warned me. She said ‘He’ll try to fuck you, poppet. But you fight and you scream and he’ll leave.’ So when he came to my room after my monthly stopped, I fought and I screamed. I clawed his face. Aunt Marian came and she saved me. She told Silas that if he ever touched me again, she’d ruin him then kill him. She told him she wouldn’t put up with it again.”  
“That’s why you fear him.”  
Olivia looked at her husband. “Yes, I think if he could get rid of you, he would try even this day.”  
“I have no doubt.”  
She kissed him, a rush of tongue. Her fingers flew to the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt. “He’s gone and I need you. Like a beast clawing inside my belly.”  
He held her face at her temples. “Are you sure? Or are you just reacting to painful memories and grief?” His thumbs caressed her cheeks. They still hid so many things from each other. He had made a habit of holding her like this, looking her in the eyes. He made sure that she knew he saw her and didn’t hold anything from her past against her. Their pasts didn’t define their future, a future she made him see brighter and brighter.  
Olivia shifted to sit astride him then took his hand and placed it against her moist folds. “Does that feel like painful memories and grief?”  
Thomas groaned then clamped his hand around the back of her neck. His mouth crushed her and he plunged his fingers deep inside her. They gasped for air. His fingers worked in and out of her, his hips rocked back and forth on the sofa cushion. “Where?”  
A wicked grin curled the lips of his love. “Silas’s office.”  
His chest deep chuckle made her smile more. “As my love wishes.” She slid back to her feet and he stood. They stumbled backward down the hall, kissing and untying laces and ribbons. Her back hit the door and crashed into the office. Thomas buried his face in her neck, kissing and biting. Olivia closed her eyes and let her head drop back. He lifted her leg around his waist and ground his aching cock against her.  
Annie walked past the open door then ran the opposite direction when she saw the two of them. Thomas stepped back, grabbing her hand to pull her off the door. He slammed the door shut and turned into a passionate kiss as she pulled him by the lapels of his open shirt to the desk. He grabbed the hair at the base of her skull and pulled her back.  
Thomas’s jaw set forward. He watched her mouth open more with each wet, open-mouthed kiss along her jawline to her mouth. He hovered at her lips. “Like a beast clawing in your belly? Let’s give it a beastly fucking then.” He spun her around and bent her over the desk. His trousers feel to mid-thigh. He lifted her leg to rest her bent knee on the desk. He flung the skirt of her dress onto her back. Pausing to coat the head of his cock in her arousal, he teased it along her open slit. Her cunt quivered, opening more. Her shout came from the back of her throat, hoarse and hard, at the entire length of cock filling her. They made no effort to quiet the raucous sounds of the love-making.  
Olivia reached for the other side of the desk, clawing against the polished wood. His balls slapped against her swollen clit with each hard deep thrust. She glanced up at the photograph before her, the sad face of her mother. With a slap, she knocked the photograph to the floor. The glass shattered. Thomas watched his glistening cock disappear and reappear from his wife’s welcoming body.  
“Harder, Thomas.”  
“Yes, my sweet.” He gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of her ass. He should feel wrong for doing this on the day of her aunt’s funeral, in her uncle’s office no less. But he’d seen the way the man looked at her and now he knew the secret of her fear. Thomas pressed the small of her back down and lost himself in the pressure building. Olivia slipped a hand between her body and the desk, resting her burning cheek against the cool wood. She closed her eyes and let her fingers make quick work of her engorged clit. She was screaming and cumming down his cock. It dripped on the desk beneath her.  
Thomas cried out and fucked her faster, the rippling of her walls driving him to madness. He clenched his jaw, dissolving into animalistic rutting until his orgasm shoved a rod up his spine. He froze, his cock fully seated and twitching in her pulsing cunt. Breathing heavily, he lay along her back. “You’re safe, my sweet love. I’ll never let him take you from me.”  
Olivia didn’t realize she was crying until Thomas gathered her into his arms and carried her to bed. Her loving husband stripped her of her mourning black and held her naked body against his, kissing away her salty tears and her sob cries until the pain was forgotten, until it was only her and him and the love between them.

Lucille ran out to the carriage as it slowed. Olivia didn’t wait for the footman to set down the stool. She threw open the door and jumped from the carriage. Her skirts fluttered about her swift legs. Lucille wrapped her arms around Olivia’s shoulders as their lips met. Thomas smiled to himself as he helped Michael down from the carriage and lifted Henry’s bassinet.  
By the time he and his sons reached them, they had their foreheads pressed together. Their noses nuzzled along one another and their lips met again. Thomas leaned in and kissed his sister’s cheek. Lucille looked from wife to husband. Olivia smiled. “Give me Henry. He’s likely hungry.” She took Michael’s hand. She needed to rest after their nearly marathon love-making on the train. Matilda had sat with the children in a cabin of their own. The night Silas’s office had lit a fire in him, one only her body could quench. Thomas had become possessed with this need to become a father again. To watch her belly grow firm and round with his child. He felt true peace when they bodies were wedded together, bliss he only felt with her.  
Thomas looked up from his sister’s tight embrace, lingering as his wife walked into Allerdale Hall. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder. Their gazes met over Lucille’s shoulder, across the short distance. Thomas knew he wouldn’t let anyone take her from him. Not Silas, not Lucille, not the restless dead that whispered through the halls of Allerdale. No one.


	25. Chapter 25

The haunting of Allerdale Hall became more obvious. The red lady showed herself more and more to Michael. Olivia’s nightmares returned. Thomas’s late wives bringing with them her late husband, Nathaniel. More often than not, she woke up screaming. Thomas would hold his wife until her crying stopped. They would share their night terrors then fall back to sleep holding each other tightly. If the restless dead sought to drive the couple apart, their efforts were futile. Thomas and Olivia clung to each other in their fear.  
Lucille told no one about her nightmares. Thomas already thought her mad. If he knew of the dreams and the sightings, he might put her in an institution. ‘For her own good.’ He’d never threatened to lock her away, but that was before Olivia, before Michael and Henry. No, no one would know. Her madness began to seep through the cracks of her mask. She manically baked sweets for the family, giving trays of leftovers to the workmen. She stalked about the house, cleaning rooms that didn’t need cleaned, caring for a house that crumbled around them. Crumbling like her sanity, her grip on reality.  
Thomas saw his severe mother when he lest expected it; most commonly after arguments with Lucille or their exhibitionist fucking in front of Olivia. Her words were always the same in the dream. He would have to choose. It felt like something was building at Allerdale, but what?  
Thomas stood at the controls of the excavator, lost in his thoughts. He looked up at the hall as he descended the stairs of the platform. His mother stared out of the window to the master bedroom. His shoe hit a spot of clay and threw him off balance. A cry went up from the workers close by as he fell, narrowly missing the massive, rapidly spinning gear. It clipped his cheek, opening a bloody line dangerously close to his eye.  
The foreman helped him up and held a rag to his face. They hurried inside, missing the arrival of a carriage. “Lady Sharpe!”  
Olivia looked up from her book at fire. She tossed it on the couch as she leapt to her feet at the sight of blood on her Thomas. Lucille emerged from the scullery, wiping her hands. “What’s the meaning of this?” She halted her admonishment when she saw her brother.  
The women spirited him into the scullery to tend to his wound. Olivia pinned the forearm with a hard stare. “What happened?” Thomas opened his mouth to speak but she smacked his chin, closing his mouth. “I didn’t ask you. Close your mouth or you’ll open the wound more.”  
Lucille looked from Olivia to Thomas, the brusque behavior surprising her. The foreman removed his hat. “He slipped, Lady Sharpe. A spot of clay to be expected. Nearly went face first into the gears, ma’am.” The women gasped in horror of what could have happened to the man they loved.  
Lucille jumped to it before Olivia had the chance. “That’s it. You will fashion a rail for the steps.”  
“And a safety panel or grate in front of that spinning gear. You could have been killed.” Thomas looked sheepishly between his lady loves. “Go ahead, speak Thomas.”  
“Yes wife, yes sister, I will see to it.”  
Lucille clucked, peeking underneath the rag. “You’ll need stitches. I practically see the bone.” She held the cloth against his face then looked at the foreman. “Send a man into the village for the doctor.”  
Henry cried from the sitting room. Olivia looked at Thomas. “I’ll be right back. He’s a demanding little one.” Thomas smiled softly. She leaned in and kissed his unmarred cheek. He held onto her wrist as she walked away. Their fingers caressed along one another before they gripped fingers. Then she was too far away to maintain contact. Lucille raised an eyebrow at the lingering touch. Thomas watched her go.  
“You really must be more careful with your person, Thomas.”  
“Yes, Lucille.” She cleaned away the blood and replaced the rag with a clean one. “I think I’ll go wait in the sitting room.”Lucille bit the inside of her cheek to keep the protest silent. Of course, a brush will death would raise a need to be around his sons…he wasn’t leaving her for Olivia…  
“Of course, can’t have you bleeding all over the scullery.” She pecked his cheek quickly and hustled him out.  
Thomas felt a pull to look up. His breath left him as he saw the women the house had claimed standing faintly in the third floor rotund. No, not the house. Lucille. Lucille had claimed them.  
“It’s a pleasure to see you, Marcus.” Thomas shook himself loose their gaze and followed Olivia’s voice into the sitting room. “Ah, there he is.”  
“Good lord, man, what happened!”  
Thomas put on his best charming grin and forcibly shook his solicitor’s hand. “Slight accident with the excavator.”  
“It’s not unsafe, is it? We have to watch ourselves with these labor unions sprouting up.”  
“It’s nothing like that, Marcus. I’ll be making a few safety additions before we go into production.” Thomas glanced at his wife. She could tell he had something to tell her, but with Marcus here now and the doctor on his way, it would have to wait. “What do we owe this visit to?”  
“As I was just about to tell Lady Sharpe here, the deeds have come through for Sharpe Manor. You may begin to move in immediately. As well as the deeds for the warehouses in London’s shipping yards.”  
“Fantastic! Send word to the Board of Director’s for Sharpe and Son to convene in two weeks at the London office.”  
Marcus looked down at his lap. “Well, sir, it seems that um…during your father’s last years as the company head and it’s floundering since his death, you, Olivia and Lucille are all that’s left within the company proper, sir.”  
“That’s all?”  
“Yes, it seems your father fired the board as one of his last acts. You and Olivia control most of the company with an 80% holding. Lucille has 20%.”  
“Well…I suppose I’ll need to hire a new board. Along with a full production staff.”  
“Of course, sir.” Marcus jotted down notes. “When should we begin?”  
“Two weeks. When my family and I return from holiday.”  
“Yes, sir. Um, Sir Thomas, will you be conducting interviews here or in London?”  
Olivia stepped in. “Marcus, we will conduct interviews in London, of course. Thomas and I will give you the details when we return from our holiday.” The doctor strode into the sitting room.  
“Oh, excuse me.”  
“It’s quite alright, doctor. Marcus was just leaving.” Marcus and Thomas both looked at Olivia. “I’ll show you out.”  
“Of course, Lady Sharpe.” He gathered his paperwork and followed her out to the door. “Is there something you wanted to say to me outside of your husband’s attention, Olivia?”  
“Yes, actually, Marcus, you’ve known my uncle for years.”  
“Unfortunately.”  
She smiled. “Find out how much 15% of the excavator comes out to in a monetary figure.”  
“Good heavens.”  
She hushed him. “Please. The less my husband knows about this, the better. And if my uncle were to know nothing, that would be splendid. And quickly. Preferably before we go into production.”  
“Of course, my lady.”  
“Thank you, Marcus.” She shut the big door behind him then strolled back to the sitting room. She felt the eyes of the ladies of Allerdale Hall on her, but she refused to look up. Soon, they wouldn’t bother anyone.  
“Bloody hell, man!”  
The doctor chuckled. “I got a bit ahead of myself. I’ll let the anesthetic work a bit longer before we start again.” The doctor turned on the stool to her footfalls. “Lady Olivia! How fair you today?”  
“Marvelous.”  
“Let me take a look at your wrist.” She offered her hand to the doctor. He carefully unbound the splint. She winced at his testing her range of motion. “The bones set nicely. Just take it easy on the wrist while the soft tissue heals and the bone hardens.” He set to sewing the cut on Thomas’s cheek. “Feel that, Thomas?”  
“No, sir.”  
“Excellent. I’ll make quick work of this. If you take good care of it, scarring will be minimal.”  
“It’ll make him look even more dashing and mysterious.”  
The doctor chuckled. “Young master Henry? How goes the little lord?” Olivia lifted him from his cradle, much to his dissatisfaction. He made sure everyone knew too, his cry shattering the stillness. “Good strong lungs. Bring him close, would you?” Olivia walked around behind her husband. The doctor finished off the stitches then looked up at the boy. “Oh my goodness, all that black hair. You can tell he’s a Sharpe.”  
Thomas laughed. “That he is. Stubborn and opinionated with a head of hair black as sin.” He touched his son’s head. “And the eyes of his mother.”  
The doctor smiled at the loving picture the Sharpes made. “So when should I expect visits again, Olivia?”  
“Not yet, I’m afraid. Maybe after we return from Paris.” She tucked Henry back in his cradle.   
Michael looked up from his drawing. “Hennie isn’t the only baby dat kies in da house.” The adults turned to him, but his attention went back to the drawing.  
“Mimi, what are you talking about, love?” Olivia glanced at Thomas who glanced at the doctor then looked at his son.  
“Anloo’s baby. He kies a lot.”  
The doctor adjusted his glasses. “I wasn’t aware the Lady Lucille had a child.”  
Olivia and Thomas looked at each other with wide eyes. But it was Thomas that chose to answer. “She doesn’t. Perhaps Michael had heard my talking about her desire to have a child.”  
The doctor turned on his stool. “Perfectly healthy desire for a woman Lucille’s age. A right beauty, like your mother when she was younger. Why, may I ask, why hasn’t she found a husband?”  
Lucille slammed the tea service on the table. “Because I don’t want one.” Everyone jumped and turned. She had taken the opportunity to slip into the room while they were focused on the boy. Her mouth twitched that the embarrassment of the trio.  
“Forgive me, Lady Lucille.” The doctor nodded. “Thomas, keep that clean. Covered when you’re in the clay. Olivia, I’ll see you and the boys when you return from Paris.”  
“Yes, doctor.”  
Lucille showed him out but returned like a hurricane. “Why were the pair of you discussing my spinsterhood with the doctor?”  
“Michael-“  
“It’s my fault, sister. The doctor wondered when both of us would be happily wed and having children. You answered before I had a chance.”  
Lucille twisted her hands together. No way could they know that she heard her son crying at night, wanting only his mother’s love. Nor could they know that the ache to bear a child had returned with Henry’s birth. “I’ve made tea and cookies but don’t spoil your dinner.”  
“Yes, Lucille.” She turned and left the sitting room, heading upstairs to her room. Thomas rose from the chair and held out his hand for his wife to remain still. He walked out far enough to see her climbing the stairs between the second and third floor.  
“What it is, darling?”  
He waved his hand for her silence, watching until she disappeared in the direction of the stairs to the attic. He ducked back into the sitting room. “This was no accident. I saw my mother in the window of our bedroom before I slipped. I think they’re trying to kill me.”  
“Quite possibly, but what about Lucille? You were just an indifferent accomplice. She was their murderer.”  
“Have you not seen how on edge she is? Her madness is… I had thought those years away had cured her. But I see how they merely bandaged it.”  
“And murdering your late wives wasn’t evidence against that thought?”  
He had the decency to look abashed. “You are right, my darling love. Perhaps they seek to drive her mad.”  
“Pushing her to do something rash?”  
“One can only guess.”  
Olivia caressed his cheek under the bandage. “The sooner we’re out of this mausoleum, the better.”


	26. Chapter 26

“Matilda! Where is Henry’s- Oh, there it is! Nevermind!” Olivia swept her hair out of her eyes as she finished packing Henry’s things for their trip to Paris. Thomas watched her from the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest. He smiled at her overwhelmed frustration. She murmured to herself then looked at the ceiling, clenching her fists.  
Thomas seized the moment and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. His lips found her pulse and felt it jump beneath them. She stiffened at first then melted against him, sighing. “Who knew packing for two small boys would be this difficult?”  
“It would be much more difficult without Matilda.”  
“Yes, she’s a blessing. And thankfully, Lucille didn’t put up any resistance to her presence.”  
“She ignores the girl.”  
“She what- why?”  
Thomas shrugged his shoulders, their bodies swaying in a half-circle. “I’ve no clue. Maybe my sister has fallen into the aristocratic chasm where servants don’t exist until you need them.”  
Olivia leaned her head back on his shoulder as he rested his chin on hers. She stared off in space. “I could see that.” His hands fell to her belly and lay flat. “No baby yet, husband.” She turned in his arms and pressed up against him. “But my monthly is just over. Now is the perfect time.”  
Thomas grinned and pressed those flat hands against her lower back. “I don’t know what it is but the thought of you pregnant with my child again, it’s an aphrodisiac the like no one has ever seen.”  
She brushed her parted lips back and forth on his chin. “It’s primal. Natural. Our need to procreate. To bring forth life. So long we’ve been parties to death, to the taking of life. We’ve found joy in creating it. Our sins forgiven.”  
“I had a thought.” He tucked her head under his chin and rested his on the top of her head, his arms holding her close. “That for every child you and I have, for the love we spread, it brings peace to one of the women, washes away the pain I’ve caused.”  
She nuzzled her cheek against the satin of his red cravat. “Could be. But, darling, I don’t want to be some broodmare. Here simply to give you children to wipe away your past follies.”  
He laughed and leaned back, pulling her back slightly. “Such a pretty little filly you are.”  
Olivia playfully looked offended and smacked lightly at his chest before dropping her voice as she leaned in and her hand dropped to his crotch. “So long as you fuck with your horse’s cock.” He sucked in a shuddering breath.  
“Dirty pool, poppet. You know we’ve no time to get sweaty.”  
“The carriage doesn’t arrive until the morning.” Thomas glanced at the open door then kissed her. It was crass and sloppy, shoving his tongue down her throat. Their hands pulled at clothing but a knock at the door stopped them.  
“Lady Sharpe?”  
Thomas bodily moved Olivia to block Matilda’s view of the bulge in his pants. “Yes, Matilda?”  
“There’s a few gentleman at the door wishing to speak with Sir Thomas. I’ve instructed them to wait in the foyer.”  
“Thank you, Matilda.”  
“Let them know I’ll be just a moment, Matilda.”  
“Yes, sir.” The young girl backed out of door, blushing and trying not to smile. She liked working for the Sharpes. Thomas was madly in love with his wife, so she didn’t have to worry about him coming into her room off Michael’s. Every night that she heard them making love bought relief to her.  
Silas Lancaster had been a cruel master. And he was a cruel, unwelcome lover. But she took her turn with his prick to spare Annie. Annie had been repeatedly hurt by Silas. And now that Matilda was no longer there to spare her, she worried about her friend constantly.  
It was fortuitous that Lady Olivia and Sir Thomas were at the Lancaster House when she was fired over a broken picture frame. What Matilda saw as happenstance was in actuality Olivia’s guilt. Silas accused the young servant girl, despite him being present when she had cleaned the office that morning. No one would confess who broke the frame for Silas’s niece, so responsibility fell to Matilda whose duty it was to clean his office.  
Olivia had convinced Thomas that they needed a nanny to help with the children. Michael was getting bigger and more rambunctious. He was quite a handful with the new baby and what with Thomas wanting more children. It seemed only logical.  
Matilda put on her best smile as she approached the men in the foyer. “Sir Sharpe will be just a moment. If you’d follow me in to the library?”  
The constable looked at the seemingly empty sitting room directly ahead of them. “Pardon me, miss, I thought the Sharpes saw visitors in the sitting room?”  
“Begging your pardon, sir, but the children are in the sitting room. And since you’re both men of law, I didn’t think the subject fit for young ears.”  
“It was my understanding that the Sharpe boys were of a tender age.”  
“They are, but young master Michael is very smart for two year old. He’s advanced for his age, you see, sirs. Acts like some of the four years I’ve seen about London town. So’s if you’ll follow me to library, sirs, I’ll fetch you a spot a tea while you wait.”  
Thomas’s fingers dug into the arms of the chair and he squeezed his eyes closed. The sound from the back of his throat that he tried so hard to suppress was indiscernible from pleasure or pain. His hand flew to the back of Olivia’s head as his hips came off the chair.  
“Oh god, Olivia, yes…” He made the sound again and closed his hand over her pinned curls. Her lips and tongue stroked his cock in a tortuous up and down. “Are you-“ He swallowed and licked his lips. “Are you fingering yourself, my sweet?” She hummed in assurance. The vibration shot right through him. He had but a moment to decide to pull her back or shove his cock down her throat. He fisted his hand in her hair and held her still, pushing the head of his cock to the back of her throat. He felt it convulse just before he spurted his release down her throat. His wife rocked back on her heels then spit what she couldn’t swallow into the fire place. The fire hissed at the intrusion. “I’m so sorry, my love.”  
“It’s alright.” She panted. “Haste makes waste.”  
He smiled sheepishly. “I’ll make up for it in Paris.”  
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as he stood and composed himself. “Darling…I’m worried about Paris.”  
“Don’t be.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I guess the devil on my shoulder knew we had to push her. If she can’t be with us both, we need to know.”  
“Yes.” Olivia stood and adjusted his cravat. “Now, let’s go see who these men are.”  
“We’ve kept them waiting long enough.”  
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Only 10 or 15 minutes, love. It would have taken longer if I hadn’t sucked your cock.”  
He whipped her around by her elbow at the top of the stairs and kissed her roughly. “I love it when you say dirty things.” He bit her chin lightly. “Say it again.”  
The hand of the arm that was free rubbed his still sensitive cock. “It would have taken longer if I hadn’t sucked your cock.”  
He pushed his semi-hard cock into her hand, feeling it stirring to life once again. “Such a dirty mouth, Lady Sharpe. I might just have to fill it later.”  
Olivia looked from his mouth to his eyes with unveiled lust. She licked her lips. “You just might.” He kissed her again, tasting himself on her tongue before they sauntered down the stairs together, arm in arm.  
“Constable Cartright, to what do we owe this visit?” Thomas smiled at the village constable and shook his hand. The men clasped each other’s elbow. Cartright knew the Sharpes’ tragic history. It was good to see Thomas looking so well.  
“Sir and Lady Sharpe.” He tipped his hat. “This gentleman-“  
“Inspector Renard.”  
“Inspector Renard is inquiring about a Miss Pamela Upton.” Thomas’s hand twitched in Olivia’s. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.  
“Yes, it seems that her surviving cousins have been trying to get in contact with her at her last known address, Allerdale Hall, to no such luck. And her husband has taken another wife and had a child. They’re very distressed.”  
“Simple, gentleman, Pamela Upton is dead.” Olivia blinked at the shocked officers. She felt her husband tense at her side. And she heard the telltale clack of Lucille’s heels come to a halt outside the library.  
“What?”  
“My dear husband told me the whole ordeal. Miss Upton grew very sick, very quickly. She thought it was her natural ailment. You did know Pamela was wheelchair bound.”  
“Yes, Lady Sharpe.” Inspector Renard began to write.  
“Sir Thomas, are you alright? You look a touch pale.”  
He swallowed and slipped free of his wife’s arm to sit down. “My apologies, sirs. It’s still very painful… She kept it from Lucille and I until there was nothing we could do.”  
“Did you summon the doctor?”  
“We wanted to but she refused. She was so close to death. She just wanted to die in my arms.”  
“Well, where is the body? Where was she buried?”  
“The family plot.” Olivia chimed in even though they addressed her husband.  
“Why did you not notify anyone? Her family deserved to know.”  
“Lucille and I weren’t aware she had any family.”  
The inspector became flustered. “But how on earth did you two marry if there is no record of her death?”  
“Inspector, I trust my uncle did everything above board in regards to my marriage. Are you disparaging Silas Lancaster before his kin?” The fact that said kin hated him with every fiber of her being and would just as soon see him dead as look at him was beside the point.  
“No, Lady Sharpe.”  
“My uncle is not the best example of humanity in England, but he’s never done anything to endanger his assets. And unfortunately, I’m one of those assets as his niece and surviving kin. I’m sure if you inquire-“  
“I did.” The inspector leveled her with a look that wasn’t overly friendly. “There is no record of the marriage between Thomas Sharpe and Pamela Upton. The marriage certificate was part of some freak fire from illuminating gas.”  
Olivia joined her hands at her waist and let them drop. “If there was no record of the marriage then there would be no reason to prevent our union, nor invalidate it henceforth.”  
“You are correct, Lady.” The inspector cleared his throat. He clenched his jaw, unhappy that she was in fact correct. “That doesn’t negate the matter of Miss Upton’s death.”  
“Of course not. Such a tragedy.”  
“A death certificate must be filed.”  
“Of course, upon our return from Paris. We leave in the morning, I’m afraid.”  
“Sir Thomas, your new bride is quite knowledgeable about this situation.” The inspector looked at Thomas, who had been hiding his face under his hand, feigning grief. Olivia seemed to have the situation in hand, so he let her handle it.  
“I have no secrets from my wife.”  
“Should her family want to visit the grave?”  
“They are more than welcome. Though the grounds are unstable, they would need an escort to the family plot.”  
Lucille swept into the room. “Gentlemen, Matilda just informed me you were here.” She squeezed Olivia’s upper arm slightly. Sister in law looked at sister in law. Lucille’s eyes flashed with something that frightened Olivia. Her madness perfumed the air with desperation.  
“Lady Lucille, a pleasure.” Constable Cartright doffed his hand and bowed.  
“Constable Cartright.”  
The inspector looked at Olivia. “I will pass on the information to Miss Upton’s cousins.”  
“Thank you, inspector. Matilda, kindly see the gentlemen out.”  
“Yes, miss.”  
“And Matilda, when you’ve seen the gentlemen out, would you make sure Henry and Michael have a bath before tomorrow?”  
“Yes, miss.”  
Olivia waited at the doorway until the inspector and the constable were gone and Matilda had started up the stairs before she turned back to her husband and sister in law. Lucille slammed her into the wall and put her arm in her throat.  
“How do you know! Why did you tell them!”  
Olivia tapped her arm lightly, the pressure on her windpipe not uncomfortable but inconvenient. Thomas choked her harder when the mood struck them. But she wasn’t about to abase herself by whispering or croaking out her words. Lucille dropped her arm and Olivia made a show of touching her throat, playing into Lucille’s heightened emotions.  
“I know because-“  
“I told her.” Thomas stood from the couch. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. Lucille whirled around.  
“What? Why?” She stalked forward two steps then stopped, halfway between husband and wife.  
“Because I found a set of wax cylinders in an empty linen closet. I listened to them and questioned Thomas.” Thomas blinked. Olivia had never told him about finding the cylinders. He didn’t even know of their existence until now. Could that have been why Lucille had ‘accidentally’ knocked off the gramophone Michael had given her for Christmas? And Pamela’s own gramophone had disappeared? Then how did Olivia listen to them? Unless she’d found Pamela’s.  
“Is this true? You told her.” Lucille closed the distance and turned Thomas’s face.  
His sadness and guilt rested on his handsome face. “It’s true, Lucille.”  
“Everything?”  
“Everything. About Pamela.” He leveled his sister with a look. She seemed reassured for the moment, but her emotions sang through her blood like a taut violin string.  
“You should have let me kill her, Thomas.” Lucille pressed her face into his chest. Her shoulders shook as she cried.  
Olivia stayed against the wall. “No, Olivia isn’t like the others. You know this as well as I. Hasn’t the last year shown you that?”  
Lucille looked at him, her wild eyes rimmed in red, her face wet with tears. “But why? Why is she different?”  
Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know. But I feel it in my heart and soul. And you should too if you truly love her as you say do.”  
“I do love her. Never as much as I love you.” Lucille reached up and smoothed his cheeks with her thumbs. “Say it.”  
“Lucille-“  
“Say it, Thomas.” Her tears dried up as her jealousy seized control. “Say you love me more, Thomas.” Still, Thomas hesitated. Olivia flinched at the sharp crack of the slap on his face. “Say it!”  
Thomas seethed, his jaw set with open mouth. “I love you more than her, Lucille.”  
Olivia pushed away from the wall and turned out of the room. He was just placating her, wasn’t he? Telling her what she wanted to hear because she had grown so fragile. Then why did it hurt? Olivia pressed her hand to her chest. Her breath came sharp and the tears started before she hit the stairs.


	27. Chapter 27

Olivia spent the train ride to London in the cabin with Matilda and the boys. Thomas spent it in the club car, leaving Lucille to herself. The tension between the three was palpable. Michael clung to his mother, wanting only her, which became difficult when Henry needed her.  
Thomas had tried to console his wife and convince her of what she’d thought, that he’d only said the words to placate Lucille, but that thorn still stuck in Olivia’s chest. And for the first time in the year and a half they’d been married, they slept without touching. Oddly, neither of them suffered from nightmares. A dreamless sleep greeted the couple when their thoughts finally let them.  
In the morning, again Thomas attempted to convince his wife that he loved her more, this time with his body. He caressed every inch of her with his fingertips and lips, giving special tender care to her sore breasts. Thomas made her see stars, bringing her to orgasm with his fingers and tongue thrice before finally making love to her.  
Thomas kept his body against hers, each thrust slow and deep. He couldn’t kiss her enough, wiping away the tears she cried. When she found her release, he drank down her soft, high-pitched keen. His back bowing as he found his from her body milking him. The hurt and the tension eased between them.  
The same could not be said for the tension between Lucille and Olivia or Lucille and Thomas. The carriage ride to the train was uncomfortably quiet. And no one said anything on the carriage ride from the train to the steamer once they arrived in London. Their adjacent cabins eased some of the tension as Matilda settled the boys down in their cabin, Thomas and Olivia settled into theirs and Lucille into hers.  
“This will surely never work.”  
Thomas moved up behind his wife and stared at her reflection in the mirror. He squeezed her shoulders then swooped around to kiss her cheek. “It must.”  
“Thomas, I’m terrified she will drive us apart.” Olivia blinked away her tears, looking away from their reflection. The picture of their beauty and happiness accused her.  
“Never, my love. We’ll figure out a way.”  
“And what if we don’t? What if she makes you choose?”  
Thomas turned her in his arms and tipped her chin up with a bent knuckle. “Let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s enjoy our holiday in Paris. Alright?” She didn’t answer, her worry and pain still pinching her pretty face. “Please, my darling?” She nodded, swallowing and blinking away her tears. He kissed her sweetly and made it much easier. He loved her. She felt it in every kiss, every touch. So why did she worry he would choose Lucille? Because before her, he’d always chosen Lucille.

The captain tipped his hat to Thomas and Olivia as they strolled on the deck. She dug her fingertips into his forearm and he looked down at her. “What is it, my sweet?”  
“I had a dirty thought.”  
They slowed to a stop. “Tell me.”  
“We won’t reach Paris until in the morning, correct?”  
“You are correct.”  
She stepped up to him. “After the other guests have gone to bed, what’s say we take a late night stroll?”  
Thomas smiled and shook his head. “I don’t see how that’s dirty, Olivia.”  
She discretely dropped her hand to rub the back of it against his crotch. “It is if you fuck me over the guard rail…or in a life boat perhaps…” His jaw twitched. “I know…how about in one of the sun loungers?”  
Thomas stepped forward, pushing his growing cock into her hand, to let someone pass between them and the wall. “What about all three, my dirty girl?” He rested his hand on her throat, his thumb caressing a line up and down the front.  
“That increases the risk of being caught…”  
“What? You don’t want one of these stalwart sailors to see your pert little ass as I fuck you over the rail? Or maybe your breasts bouncing out of that corset while I have you spread wide.”  
She leaned and brushed her lip up his bottom one. “I should like that. A lot.” He spun her into a doorway and slipped his hand between her legs, rubbing her mound through the fabric of her dress. “Would you let these ‘stalwart sailors’ watch you fuck me?”  
Thomas moaned as she turned her hand began to rub him harder and faster. “Ask me when I’m buried sack deep in your sweet little cunt.”  
Olivia grinned against his mouth, a Cheshire cat grin that he returned. “I love you, Thomas.”  
“I love you, Olivia.” He took her mouth, sucking her deep into the kiss. He walked her back against the opposite side of the inset doorway and pushed his knee up between her legs. “Think they’d say anything if I spun you around and shoved this prick up your pretty little ass? “ He inclined his head to the seemingly clueless walkers on the deck just a foot away.  
She giggled but she was breathless. Her face flared red with need, the only visible sign of her arousal. She alone could feel the wetness running down her thigh. “I think they’d be scandalized, my lover.”  
He grinned and kissed her passionately, pressing her bodily against the wall. “Is that what we are? The scandalous Sir and Lady Sharpe?”  
“Oh yes, of that there is no doubt.”  
Thomas smiled, soothing his thumb along her jaw. “I would choose you.” He looked into her eyes when he spoke. She didn’t have to ask what he meant. She knew. And she knew what it cost him, what it took for him to say that.  
The captain of the steamer pulled up short in the doorway. “Oh excuse me.”  
Thomas stood up straight and cleared his throat. “My apologies, captain.”  
The captain took in their flushed cheeks and Thomas’s very visible erection and smiled, shaking his head. “Stealing a moment away from the family, eh?”  
Olivia tried not to smile at Thomas’s embarrassment, suppressing a giggle. “Yes, captain. Our sons are quite young and demand a good deal of our attention.”  
The captain nodded. “I’d invest in a nanny.”  
Thomas looked at his wife, trying to be angry at her enjoyment of his discomfort. “We have.”  
“Good, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” He doffed his cap at Olivia. “Captain Justin St. James.”  
Olivia offered her his hand. “Lady Olivia Sharpe, this is my husband, Sir Thomas Sharpe.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it then shook Thomas’s hand.  
“Why don’t the two of you join me at my table for dinner? Let the nanny see to the boys for the evening.”  
Olivia looked up at Thomas excitedly. “Oh Thomas!”  
“It would be our honor, Captain St. James.”  
The captain opened the door they all stood by. “Excuse me, sir?” He paused and turned to Olivia.  
“Yes, Lady Sharpe?”  
“Forgive me for asking, but Thomas’s sister, Lucille...” She glanced at Thomas, taking cues from him. He seemed indifferent though. “Might she join us as well?”  
The captain smiled. “But of course.” Then he paused. “She’s not the nanny, is she?”  
Olivia smiled. “Oh no, we’re just very close and we wouldn’t want her to feel excluded.”  
“No worries, Lady Sharpe.”  
The door shut behind the captain and Olivia turned to Thomas, grabbing his forearms. “Oh Thomas, invited to sit at the captain's table!” He smiled. His wife could be the prettiest social butterfly when she wanted to be. Two sides to every coin, they say.

Dinner at the captain’s table went swimmingly. Thomas made connections with a Spanish land baron and an American cattle rancher. Olivia tastefully flirted with the Spaniard’s wife, Sophia, discussing art and poetry, along with their children. The Spanish land baron and his wife had two young daughters not much older than Michael. They extended an invitation to visit their villa in the south of Spain before the weather turned cool.  
The American made no attempt to hide his interest in Lucille, who showed no reciprocation. From a compliment on her elegant hands, a tipsy Olivia mentioned that her sister-in-law played simply beautiful piano. Whereupon, the Sharpes, the Spanish couple and the American were invited to an impromptu private concert in the captain’s quarters later that evening.  
Thomas playfully plucked the champagne flute from his wife’s fingers. “Darling, you must think of Henry.” He kissed her nose. “And if you’re too pliable, I won’t be able to ravage you later after everyone’s to bed.”  
Olivia bit her bottom lip and dropped her eyes. “Forgive me, husband.” He grinned and tipped her chin up.  
“All’s forgiven, my lovely.” He kissed her sweetly, tasting the champagne and the sweet strawberries from her dessert. She returned his smile.  
The Spaniard’s wife, Sophia, stepped up to Olivia as Thomas spirited away the champagne. “How long have you and Thomas been married?”  
“A little over a year.”  
“But I thought you said your oldest boy was two.”  
“Michael turned two just before Henry came. His father passed away before he was a year old. Thomas is the only father he knows.”  
“That’s a wonderful thing.” Sophia looked between the two of you. “He loves you very much. You can practically feel it in the air.”  
“I love him just as much. We saved each other.”  
The roomed hushed as Lucille assumed the keys of the small upright piano. She played a haunting melody that wafted through the cabin, touching everyone in their secret sadness. Lucille had told Olivia that she’d written it after her son’s passing.  
The mood had relaxed after Lucille’s song, but the American still had his eyes on her. He sat down at the piano with her. “Lady Lucille, you are a rare jewel to find these days. How is it you’re not married off to some lord or baronet?”  
“I made the choice a long time ago to stay by my brother’s side.”  
He laid his hand on her knee. “Your brother looks quite taken with his bride. He doesn’t need you to look after him anymore.” His thumb pressed into her thigh. “A fine woman like you needs a good man.”  
“Mr. Buchanan, kindly remove your hand from my thigh before I remove it from your wrist.” Lucille raised her eyebrow at him.  
He grinned. “Feisty, I like a woman with fire.” But he removed his hand from her thigh. He leaned in close and grabbed her neck swiftly. “I bet you like it rough. I like a bit of rough trade myself.” The American sucked in air as the sharp point of a hair pain pressed into his throat.  
“Take your hands off my sister before I shove this through your Adam’s apple.” The room froze and all eyes fell to Lucille, Olivia and the American.  
“You wouldn’t.”  
Thomas cleared his throat. “She would. You severely underestimate my wife. As it seems I’ve severely overestimated you.”  
The American removed his hand from Lucille’s throat. She calmly slide from the bench and excused herself from the party. “Sharpe, call off your wife.”  
Olivia pressed harder on the pin to draw a fat drop of blood on his skin. She leaned in so that only the pair of them could hear. “Come near us again and shove this pin in your ear, sir. It’s quite a long pin.” She giggled. “I bet it would come out your other ear.” The American swallowed. “Such a shame you’re a brute. Lu could have used a good prick.” She emphasized the ‘k’.  
Thomas touched her shoulder. “Come on, Livi. Let’s go for a walk under the stars.”  
She spun around, all lethality draining away with the smile on her face. “That sounds splendid, my love.” Thomas and Olivia said their goodbyes then headed back toward the rooms before she pulled him up short. “Oh Thomas, can we please go up to the deck before we go back to the rooms?”  
He hesitated. Lucille needed them. But he wanted to make love to his wife under the stars. They both knew if they went back to the room, there would be tears and no love-making. “Alright.” They turned a corner and headed up a flight of stairs out onto the deck. Thomas spun her around and took her mouth in a passionate but gentle kiss.  
Their walk forgotten as he remembered her words from that afternoon. There was no guard rail, no life boat, no sun lounger. He backed her up against the wall of the inset door to the stairwell they just came out of. He lifted her skirts and her left leg around his waist as she unlaced his trousers. Hands and kisses grew frantic the closer they came to what they both desperately needed.  
They joined one hand locked together, their fingers entwined, and pressed to the night-chilled steel wall. He covered her mouth with his free hand as he thrust into her, muffling her cries. She dug her nails into his waist at his back. He pressed his forehead to hers, watching as her pleasure swept over her face beneath his hand. Her eyes closed and her brow pinched as she cried out behind his hand. He clenched his jaw against his own moans, breathing hotly through his flared nostrils. His hips snapped quick and hard. They squeezed each other’s hand as they held on through their sudden, sweeping release.  
He kissed her between gulping breaths. “I love you. I love you. Never leave me.”  
“Never, Thomas, never, I love you.”  
He cupped her jaw and kissed her, sipping love from her lips before letting her leg drop. He stared into her eyes and it felt like forever. He never wanted to go back to Allerdale. And he told her so. “Olivia, when we return home, let’s not go back to the Hall.” In all his life, he’d been told the house was all they had. But now, he had so much more.  
She laughed softly, pushing his hair back from his eyes. They shined in the moonlight with hope and she couldn’t help but smile. “If that is what you wish. We can go to Sharpe Manor.”  
“Yes! We’ll have some of the workmen pack the things we want to move with us and we’ll never look back.”  
“Thomas, I’d rather not have strange men pawing through our belongings.”  
He blushed in his excitement. “Fine, then we’ll pack but I want to spend our nights at Sharpe Manor. No more being afraid to sleep, no more nightmares, no more ghosts.”   
“Of course, my love.” She laughed at his bubbling excitement. With joy written on his face, she would give him anything he asked of her.  
He looked into her eyes. “I have more than I ever thought I deserved. I have you and our sons. I have the world.” Thomas swept her up into his arms then kissed her. Before she knew it, they were waltzing along the aft deck to a melody that only they could hear in their hearts.


	28. Chapter 28

The man crept up to Allerdale Hall, his shadowy figure barely visible along the stone wall that bordered the courtyard. He’d waited in town until the workmen left for the day then made the trek to the Sharpe ancestral home. Not surprisingly, the front doors were not locked. No one would think to enter an aristocrat’s home uninvited. Even though England was becoming more modern, the status quo was still very much in place.  
He pushed the door shut behind him. The old house seemed to loom over him in the dark and the quiet. The normal night chill of Cumbria seemed to double down over him in the silent darkness. Lancaster had said to check the attic and the level below the main floor for any dirt on the Sharpe siblings, including his niece. After his scheme with the Upton woman’s cousins fell through, he decided to take a less than upstanding approach.  
The man’s boots sounded loud in the grand foyer. And though he was alone, he didn’t feel it. An infantile, ancient fear settled in his belly. That fear that there’s something in the dark. He frequently looked behind him as he climbed the stairs. The whites of his eyes showed more and more until he reached the upper most floor of the Hall. He found Sir Thomas’s workshop. The man had begun another small scale invention that he’d covered with a cloth sheet. Handmade toys for his children covered the work benches in different stages of completion. Nothing of interest to him.  
He continued to what must have been the Lady Lucille’s room. She was an odd duck, that one. Moths and butterflies under glass domes and pinned in picture frames. He even found locks of braided hair. But nothing in her room that would be of interest to Lancaster. Rather than risk spending any more time in the house than he needed, he took the lift down to the lower level.  
He swung open the cage. The darkness swallowed everything around him. He felt for switches until he found a push button panel. A dim, acrid yellow light flickered on. The crimson clay cast a red glow in the light. He stepped down off the riser and slipped, falling backward into the panel. The electrical, mechanical mess gave a hiss and pop in complaint.  
He shook himself, rubbing his eyes as he got his bearings again. The shadows shifted and moved. He couldn’t be sure, but he felt like there was someone down there with him. The clay vats didn’t harbor any interest to him but what lay beyond did. He began to rummage through the old luggage. The damp and the rot had had its way with dresses of different styles and colors. Trinkets and things tumbled out of the piles into his clumsy, frightened hands. This was something, wasn’t it? Luggage and personal property stashed away and forgotten.  
That’s when he heard it. A faint moan, a scuffle, a whisper. He stood ramrod straight and turned. They advanced on him from all sides.  
“Help us.”  
“Free us.”  
“Stop her.”  
“Help us –  
Save us –  
Stop her!” One crawled toward him on her belly, wailing. Two looped toward him with out-stretched hands.  
“Stay away from me!” He backed up against the pile, causing it to collapse as they advanced. A rusty lock gave on the lid of one of the clay vats. The lid itself slid back. “You just stay back!” He tried to skirt around them but one of them grabbed hold of his arm. That’s when he noticed the baby she carried. He howled in desperate fear and swatted her away.  
His foot slipped in the drainage trough and his head cracked against the stone of the vat. The ghastly women turned to their fifth. Marian shook her head. “He will not help you…” The man groaned as he tried to stand up, but his vision blurred. He thought he could make out the shapes of them.  
“No, no stay back!” He swung blindly, blood from the gash in his head stinging his eyes. His shoes slipped in the clay, squeaking obscenely. The crawling woman grabbed his pant leg. He tried to shake her off and lost his balance, toppling into the clay vat. The heavy lid slid back into place, muffling his cries for help. The metallic bang of his fists grew weaker and weaker. The women faded into the blackness and the light clicked off. The lift rose to its place on the main floor in the scullery.

Perhaps it was the wine with dinner coupled with an after dinner drink in the club that made Thomas decide to push Lucille. Either way, it was done and on their third day in Paris, no less. Thomas found his wife in the bath, a phonograph playing a soft, relaxing tune. He watched her for moment, humming softly with the melody. The water droplets on her chest and belly glowed in the candlelight. He would miss these small details when they switched everything over to illuminating gas.  
He trailed his fingers along her dripping foot and calf that she’d lain over the lip of the tub. Olivia’s eyes opened slowly. “I thought you’d never come up from the club.”  
“Making new connections, my sweet.”  
She smiled and raised her foot to push into his thigh. He tensed his muscle against the touch of her toes. “My husband, the dashing businessman.”  
Thomas’s tongue rolled between his lips. “Tell me, wife, has Henry been fed?”  
Her toes crept closer to his groin. At the first touch against his semi-hard cock, he snatched her foot by the ankle. He crouched next to the tub, drawing her toes into his mouth where he sucked the water off them. He began to rub her Achilles’s tendon as he sucked her toes.  
Olivia’s lips parted and she began to squirm, the quasi-painful touch shooting straight to her belly. “Henry has been fed, my love. He and Michael both have been read to and sang to and are off in sweet slumber.”  
Thomas trailed his tongue down the inside of her ankle. “Hurry with your bath then…and don’t dress.” His teeth scraped the bend of her knee. She didn’t bother to hide or suppress her gasp of delight. He left her to finish. It wasn’t long before he heard the water splash. Thomas smirked to himself as he slipped out of their room and knocked on Lucille’s door.  
“Who is it?”  
“Lucille, its Thomas.” She sighed behind the door then turned the locks. Her pouting full lips looked scrumptious. She smelled the wine on his breath before his lips found hers, his tongue invading her mouth. She stiffened.  
“You’ve been drinking.”  
“And you’ve been biting your lips.” He sucked his lips then reached for her. She stiffened but didn’t move away. His fingertips tugged lightly at the collar of the dressing gown to expose more of her throat and chest.  
“Don’t paw at me drunkenly, Thomas.”  
He frowned and dropped his hand. “I’m not. And I’m not drunk.”  
Lucille sighed and opened the door more. “What do you want, Thomas?”  
He pulled her body against his. “Come to the room.”  
She could feel his cock pressed against her hip. “I don’t want to watch you fuck Olivia again. Nor do I want her to watch you fuck me.” She pushed against his chest, but his arm held her fast.  
“Have you grown bored of our voyeuristic arrangement?”  
Lucille couldn’t bring to words her jealousy. She didn’t feel the intense passion when he fucked her that she saw when he fucked Olivia. “Not bored, just…”  
“How about no more watching then?”  
“Thomas, I don’t know.” He pulled her into a kiss and stole the rest of her complaints with his tongue. His thigh rubbed against her mound. He reached behind her and pulled the door closed. When the kiss broke, she weakly tried to push him away. “I can’t-“  
“She’s waiting for us…pink skinned and clean, fresh out of the bath.” He whispered as he kissed her throat. His thumb strummed her pert nipple. “Your body betrays you, Lucille.” His hot breath sent a shiver down her spine. “I want you both to ride me.” His tongue dipped into her ear and this time she let herself moan. “That’s my girl.” He took her chin between his fingers and looked into her eyes. “Just this once, Lu. If you don’t like it, we’ll never ask this of you again.”  
“Just this once.” He nodded. “You promise.”  
“I give you my word.”  
Lucille looked between her closed door and the cracked door to Thomas and Olivia’s room. “Just this once.” The door shut behind Thomas with a click and the lock turned into place. The bedroom had a soft glow of candle light.  
Lucille swallowed at the line of Olivia’s back. Her hair fanned out on the bed where her head rested on her upper arm, making a reddish gold half circle on the bed. She pushed up and turned around. “Lucille?” She looked to Thomas would stood behind his sister, unbuttoning his shirt. “This is a surprise.”  
“I can go back to my room.”  
“No, my sweet cherry, please stay.” Lucille couldn’t decide what to do. There had been only Thomas for so long. Yet, she loved Olivia and enjoyed everything they’d done together since she admitted to herself that she loved her. Was this the final step toward happiness or would it destroy everything? Olivia held out her hand for Lucille to take. “You’re not still mad at me, are you, Lu?”  
Lucille found her voice, but it was meek and unsure; two feelings Lucille was unfamiliar with. “Not entirely.”  
Thomas’s front pressed to her back and his arms wrapped around her waist to untie the dressing gown before pulling it off her shoulders. She felt his bare chest against her back. He’d been a busy boy while Olivia had distracted her. His lips found her pulse and the press of his hard cock against the small of her back made it jump. He chuckled darkly.  
“My sweet, deadly sister…so nervous…” He walked her forward until her knees bumped the bed. His dexterous fingers pulled the neckline of her nightgown down to expose her breasts. “We won’t bite…much.” His teeth scraped her pulse and made her shiver. Olivia rolled up onto her knees and dipped her head to take one of Lucille’s dusky nipples into her mouth.  
Thomas pulled the night gown down to her elbows, incidentally pinning her arms to her sides. “This isn’t so bad, is it Lucille?”  
Olivia moved to her other nipple, rolling it between her lips then lightly pinching it with her teeth. She kissed further down Lucille’s belly until she reached the bunched up clothe. She looked up at Thomas over Lucille’s shoulder. He pushed the night gown off her hips so it pooled about her feet. His finger traced down her spine then back up. Lucille shivered, her nipples pulling tight.  
Thomas picked her up by her waist and set her on her feet on the bed. He braced his foot on the edge then propped her leg open over his knee. Olivia scooted forward and placed a kiss on the head of his cock before kissing Lucille’s thighs. Olivia parted her lower lips, drawing Lucille’s swollen clit out of its hood. Her lips and fingers went to work. Thomas massaged and pinched Lucille’s breasts, but his eyes were on his wife. A glance at his sister’s face found her eyes closed, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Her moans and gasps sang down his spine, waltzing along his nerves.  
Lucille’s elegant hands flew like skeletal birds, one down to Olivia’s wavy tresses and the other to Thomas’s unruly curls. Her hips rode each stroke of Olivia’s fingers in and out of her. Each touch of tongue on the sensitive bundle of nerves brought her closer. Olivia looked up at Thomas, their gazes connecting in fiery passion. Oh yes, he’d fuck her good and proper. Lucille shouted out her release, covering Olivia’s tongue in her nectar.  
Wife wasted no time as she shifted forward and took Thomas’s cock in her mouth. He groaned and bit down on Lucille’s hip. Her delicate little hand stroked up to her wet lips, twisting as she went. His hips trembled as he tried to stay still.  
“Look down, Lucille.” The afterglow still clinging to her in threads, she did as her brother said, looking down at Olivia. She watched her head bob on his throbbing cock, her flushed cheeks glistened with Lucille’s release. Thomas felt her pulse jump on his tongue. “Olivia, my sweet, stop.” She gave him a final, deep suck, drawing a groan from low in his belly. He watched the head of his cock fall from her lips. An action so erotic he forgot himself for a moment. He swallowed and scraped his teeth on Lucille’s back to ground himself. “Now, lay back, my love and open your legs.”  
When her husband got that demanding tone in the bedroom, she knew things were becoming volatile. With a shiver of anticipation, she did just as he said. She lay back and spread her knees wide open, almost touching them to the bed. Thomas pushed Lucille down on her knees. “Bend over, Lucille.” He felt her body tense. “Bend. Over. Lucille.”  
“It’s alright, Lu. Come here, my cherry.” Panic swelled in Lucille’s chest. She wasn’t ready for this. She wanted to run. Run back to her room, run back to Allerdale, run back to when it was just her and Thomas and their home. Her eyes widened and Olivia saw everything falling apart. She sat up unexpectedly and kissed Lucille. “It’s alright.” She held her close and smoothed her hair. She hushed her, continuing to pet her hair in long comforting strokes. “How about this? You bend over me and I’ll touch myself while Thomas takes you from behind, yeah? Just watch my fingers. If you don’t want to put your mouth on me, you don’t have to.”  
Thomas swallowed. Perhaps he’d pushed things too far. His wife had a delicate hand when it came to stoking Lucille’s reluctant passion. He wanted this to work deep down in his soul. But his mother’s specter was correct. He felt it, like a thorn in his heart. He would have to choose.  
Lucille glanced at the door. She could run. But what would happen when they returned home? Would she alienate the two people who mattered the most? Yet, what if she liked it? She’d never know unless she tried it. She gently kissed Olivia’s shoulder and pushed her back. “Do as Thomas says, Olivia.” Her frosty tone returning as she attempted some modicum of control. Thomas was going to be fucking her, after all.  
The smile that broke over her sister-in-law’s face tore her heart to sunder. Was this what Thomas felt when she graced him with that smile? Was this what a love without pain and secrets felt like? A chest full of butterflies and your heart about to explode?  
Again, Olivia laid back on the bed and spread her knees wide. Lucille bent forward, placing her hands on either side of her sister in law’s hips. Olivia’s fingers caressed her labia then drew out her clit. Lucille watched. When Olivia offered her fingers for Lucille to wet, she sucked them into her mouth. Thomas chose that moment to push his cock into her. Lucille cried out, fisting her hands in the sheets.  
Thomas watched Olivia. Her eyes slipped closed and her body began to squirm on the bed. Her mouth fell open and her face flushed. He couldn’t see what she was doing but he’d watched her bring herself off before. He could imagine. He closed his eyes and gave himself to the moment, squeezing Lucille’s hips.  
Lucille watched Olivia, as well. The way her fingers glided over the slick flesh, the way her breasts bounced ever so slightly. The way she bit her bottom lip and whimpered. But her thoughts were never complete. Oh no, Thomas took her breath away with each pounding thrust. Pain laced the pleasure. He’d never gotten this rough, this beastly before. Even when they’d become voyeuristic. Her spiral of desire wound tighter.  
Olivia began to pant, her hips riding her fingers. She opened her eyes for a moment. Molten pleasure coursed through her veins at the scene between her legs. Lucille, lost in the moment, trying desperately to hang on. Thomas, lost in the moment as well, but losing all control and reveling in it. She licked her lips and closed her eyes again, burning this into her memory.   
Lucille tentatively pressed her lips to the bend of Olivia’s hip. Thomas opened his eyes at the shift in her body. His jaw set forward and he slowed his stroke as Lucille kissed a line from the bend of Olivia’s hip to her mound. Her body shifted again and he groaned. Olivia whimpered at the brush of Lucille’s tongue.  
Lucille seized this new found pleasure, new taste and scent. She ran away with the faint quiver in Olivia’s cunt as her lips and tongue stroked her. She clutched it to her heart as Olivia reached for her hand and locked their fingers together. Lucille hadn’t the first clue what to do. But she’d felt Thomas’s mouth on her since Olivia had come into their lives and Olivia’s tonight, and they’d used their fingers on one another enough for Lucille to guess at what to do. And Olivia awarded her efforts with a loud, breathless moan from the back of her throat.  
“Oh god, Lucille. Oh dear god, yes.” Olivia’s body arched then she fell limp on the bed, breathing rapidly, staring at the ceiling in wonder. It had been so long since another woman touched her in that way. Though Thomas had grown adept in cunnilingus, there was something else to having a woman perform it on her.  
The bed moved as Thomas withdrew from Lucille and crawled onto the bed. He kissed his sister, teeth and tongue plunging forward until brother and sister were left panting. He wanted to taste Olivia on her tongue. He whipped around and pounced on his wife.  
“Don’t tell me you’re spent, my sweet.” She licked her lips and shook her head, her hands touching him finally. Soft palms caressed sweat-sheened skin. He kissed her as he had Lucille, tasting his sister’s cunt on his wife’s tongue. He was a man possessed of forbidden love and desire. And the fire inside him only grew. He pulled Olivia’s leg up and open. She arched her back and screamed out her pleasure as he filled her in a tight, single thrust.  
Lucille’s face burned with pleasure and jealousy as Thomas fucked her. That animalistic passion she’d felt was for Olivia, not her. Tears stung her eyes and her hands fisted in the sheets. A wave of embarrassment and shame covered her. She, Lady Lucille Sharpe, was on her hands and knees with her ass in the air and cum on her cheeks. She felt dirty and wrong. But even as she hated herself and the couple before her, writhing and kissing in a tangle of limbs, she couldn’t look away. She couldn’t move. She’d wanted this. She’d enjoyed it. She loved them, even as she hated them.  
Thomas growled and rolled them so he lay on his back. Olivia laughed and kissed him, pulling his lip back between her teeth. He braced his feet on the bed and bent his knees. His hands found her breasts. The look of wonder and love in his eyes stabbed through Lucille. Then he turned that look to her. Was he aware that it dimmed?  
He licked his lips and swallowed then held out his hand. “Come here, my darling.” Olivia looked to her too. Panic seized her again. “Please, Lucille.” She bit her lip and looked between them. Her sorrow squeezed her chest. They loved her, yes. But they would never love her the way they loved each other. The way she’d thought Thomas had loved her all this time.  
Olivia sat up and leaned back against Thomas’s knees. He closed his eyes at the shift in sensation. When he opened them, Lucille practically cried. She’d never seen him so beautiful before. This was why she loved him. Why she’d caused so much pain and misery. Why she’d suffered so much loss and hurt.  
Lucille crawled across the bed to them. She let Thomas guide her where he would have her. He urged her to face Olivia and sit astride him. Olivia kissed Lucille and caressed her breasts as she rode Thomas. Lucille whimpered as Thomas pulled her pelvis back and brought her sensitive flesh to his lips. All thoughts vanished as the three of them came closer and closer.  
Lucille let herself be kissed on both sets of lips. Thomas’s tongue drove her higher and higher. His fingers dug into her thighs. The bed began to bounce with Olivia’s movement, her fingers tormenting her clit as she took her husband’s cock into her completely, almost painfully. Lucille broke from Olivia’s mouth and shouted her release. Olivia curled in on herself and groaned, from deep down as hers swept over. Thomas arched and reached for Olivia’s hips, holding her in place as he came.  
Lucille came back to herself and sucked in a breath. Panic swept over her and her body tensed. She looked to the door. She even began to crawl toward it. Olivia headed her off, crawling to her side of the bed and flopping down. She stretched like a sated cat. Thomas touched her shoulder lightly. She turned and the look on his face said everything. Don’t go. Stay with us.  
Lucille swallowed. “We don’t want Matilda or Michael to find us.” She turned away from Thomas and crawled over Olivia, avoiding the hurt in both pairs of eyes. She kept her back to the bed. If she turned around as she pulled on her night gown and dressing gown, she’d stay. She paused at the door, resting forehead against it. “I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.” She opened the door just enough to step through.  
“Lucille?” But that’s not really what Olivia said. I love you, Lucille. Thomas loves you, Lucille. Stay with us. Love us and let us love you. Be happy with us. Be with us. Stay. Don’t go.  
Lucille closed her eyes against the squeak in Olivia’s voice. There were no tears as she swallowed and stepped out into the darkened sitting area. She pulled the door closed and swiftly returned to her room without a look back. Had she lingered, she’d have heard Olivia’s heartbroken tears and Thomas’s whispered words of comfort he knew brought no comfort to him or his wife.


	29. Chapter 29

Lucille spent the rest of the Parisian holiday by herself, mostly. When the three of them were together, things became awkward then Olivia would excuse herself. Thomas attempted to divide his time equally with his wife and sister. But it became increasingly clear that things had changed. When the time came to return home, they were more than ready.  
Olivia threw herself into motherhood. She lent that nurturing instinct to Matilda as well. Matilda glanced at the young sailor walking by. She noticed many things about his body then quickly dropped her eyes.  
“You know, it’s alright to be attracted to a man, Mattie.” Matilda blushed furiously. Olivia grinned and leaned in. “I’ll tell you a secret, poppet. Men don’t like to admit it, but they simply love when you like fucking just as much as they do.”  
Matilda blushed a deeper red and Olivia couldn’t suppress her giggle. “Lady Sharpe, that’s not appropriate conversation.”  
“Oh please.” She waved it off. “You, my darling girl, are beautiful.” Olivia pushed her hair back from her eyes. “Don’t let anything Silas said or did to you take that away.”  
“How did you-“  
“Know?” Olivia laughed softly. “Mine was the only slit in that house that he didn’t get a piece of and that was because Aunt Marian forbade it. She endured his indiscretions but put her foot down when it came to me.”  
“You’re lucky, miss.”  
“I was. And I am now.” Olivia took her chin and looked into the young girl’s eyes. “You need to find you a young man from town and marry him and have babies with him.”  
“But who will be your nanny?”  
“Why you, of course. I’m not going to dismiss you just because you’ve married off.”  
“But where would we live?”  
“Sharpe Manor, with Sir Thomas and I.” Olivia kissed her cheek. “You deserve love. Every woman does.”  
“I want a love like you and Sir Thomas have.” Matilda sighed.  
“It was hard fought. By the both of us. Thomas is not my first marriage. And I was not his first. We’ve seen heartbreak and pain. But we love each other. Heart and soul. I love him with my body as surely as I love him with those.” Olivia let Matilda go then settled back into the chair. “That’s the secret to love, child. You must love them with everything you possess, heart, mind, body and soul. If they truly love you, they will love you back just as fiercely.”  
“Yes, Lady Olivia.” The sailor passed again. Matilda looked down demurely. Olivia shook her head, smiling and returned to her book.

Thomas looked over the club car with lowered lids, his jaw clenched tensely. Olivia’s fingertips touched his chin lightly. He looked down at her and smiled tightly then looked down into his glass. The amber whiskey had warmed the ice enough to make it clink against the sides of the glass.  
“Talk to me, darling.” Her thumb smoothed along his jawline up to his ear. He laid his hand over hers then kissed her palm and gently removed her hand.  
“This is not the place.”  
“It’s as good a place as any.”  
“No, it’s not. There are too many ears. The walls of the cabins are too thin.”  
“You said that on the steamer.”  
“It was true then as well. Olivia, my love, these affairs are delicate.” He sipped the whiskey, drawing the last bit through his teeth. “We’ll discuss it at home.”  
“No.” She turned away from him. “No, we won’t.” She began to walk away, but he grabbed her elbow. She stopped and turned to him, raising her eyebrow.  
Thomas pulled her firmly against his body and leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “I fear Lucille maybe do something rash.” Olivia pulled back and looked up at him. His concern and fear had knitted his face into an uncertain, uncomfortable mask. “She’s pulled away from the both of us.” He brought the glass to his lips. “She made her choice in Paris.”  
Olivia looked down and away, not really seeing anything in her gaze. She felt that remembered pain and rejection, swallowing back tears. Thomas touched her chin and turned her to look at him.  
“Don’t.” He kissed her tenderly, his hand spreading along her jaw. “I love you. That’s what matters. I will handle Lucille.”  
“You don’t think she would hurt Michael or Henry, do you?”  
“I don’t know, my love.” He looked down into his empty glass then set it on the bar. “Lucille is capable of anything, I believe.” He sighed. “I fear for us all.”

The carriage pulled up to the darkened Hall. Lucille seemed to relax immediately as her feet touched the ground. The footman helped Matilda down from the carriage then the pair of them began to carry the luggage into the house. Thomas unfolded himself from the carriage then helped Michael down. Michael ran for the house. Olivia reached for her husband with one hand, the other holding a peacefully sleeping Henry.  
Thomas wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her from the carriage. She smiled up at him. The tension of the ride vanished in their touch. He smiled down at her. “Welcome home, Lady Sharpe.”  
“Not for long, Sir Sharpe.” She nuzzled her nose along his. “Summer’s nearly half gone and I’m not yet with child.”  
“Oh my love, there’s plenty of time left to remedy that.” He kissed her quickly then leaned in to her. “The process itself is rather fun.” She shivered in his arms. His words trailing fingers down her spine to her lower belly.  
“Oh Thomas, you make me positively wanton.”  
“My sinful wife.”  
Matilda cleared her throat. “Excuse me, miss, sir.” Thomas tugged at his cravat as he looked away from Matilda. “I’ll just take Henry and get him changed for bed.”  
“Of course, Mattie. Is James lighting the fires?”  
“Yes, miss. I had him light the ones in Michael’s room and the master bedroom first.”  
“Excellent.” Matilda looked from Thomas to Olivia then gingerly took the baby from his mother. Olivia looked up at the Hall. She narrowed her eyes at the specter of all four women, the lost child and the dog staring down at them from one of the high windows. “Thomas, what happened to Michael’s dog?”  
Thomas turned to where she stared at the window. He saw it too, the canine outline near Enola. “I haven’t seen him for months. I’d assumed he’d run off.”  
“I don’t like this, Thomas. I feel as if it’s you and I against all of them, as well as Lucille. For the sake of the boys and ourselves.”  
Thomas looked away from his past and looked to his present, his future. He cupped her face and turned her to look at him. “Not for much longer. We’ll start packing first thing tomorrow. We’ve Sharpe Manor now. We don’t need this place.”  
“But Lu-“  
“She will come or she won’t.” He stared intently into his wife’s eyes. “She made her choice. I will make mine.”


	30. Chapter 30

The workmen loaded up crates and furniture for nearly a week straight. In that week, Thomas began to worry about his wife. They woke in the morning together and made love. Then she would hustle him to work, either outside with the workmen or up to his workshop. And she would begin packing. Olivia only stopped to eat, feed Henry and sleep. Several days in a row, Thomas would pick her up and carry her laughing and kicking to the bath. Where they would kiss and touch and take care of each other. Washing his wife’s hair and feeling her body relaxed against his had become one of his favorite things.  
After much discussion, Thomas commissioned a gate for the manor; no longer would it be Sharpe Manor, the wrought iron and stone would read ‘Vermilion Manor’. When Thomas wasn’t pouring his creative mind into the new invention in his workshop, he was standing a handful of feet from his wife as she packed away their lives into crates and boxes, reading to her work experiences and dossiers on prospective board members. At her request, each one had been investigated for any connection to Silas. Those that were known friends or acquaintances were taken out of consideration, no questions asked.  
A team of workmen arrived at the house at sunup and began taking instruction from Lady Olivia. Cart after cart after cart, stacked high disappeared down the road to Vermilion Manor. They took the things they knew meant the most to the Sharpe name, everything else would be sold. Matilda kept the boys busy in the nursery, a task that became increasingly harder as temperatures warmed up and Michael wanted to play outside and as much of his toys were taken to their new home.  
This was the life of the Sharpe family for the month of June 1902. And where was the Lady Lucille in all this? Why, spiraling further into madness. Thomas and Olivia had seemingly bested the restless dead of Allerdale Hall. They shifted focus to their murderer. They would appear in their screaming death masks, tormenting her with nightmares whether she was asleep or awake. All the while, they broke her heart even more with the sound of her lost child crying for his mother. Yet, Lucille did not speak of it to Olivia or Thomas, who appeared unaffected by the ethereal women. She couldn’t! Thomas would send her away to some institution. They’d lock her away forever this time.  
Lucille’s madness held a flame of her jealousy. She began to hate that which she had once held in love. Her blooming affection for Olivia withered and died on the vine, taking with it that keen, illicit passion she’d tasted with her and Thomas in Paris. She began to hate Thomas as well. Not only did he love Olivia more than she, but he lied. He lied to her when she cornered him. He kissed her with guarded affection, and their voyeuristic nights of desire stopped after Paris.  
It was for the best, Lucille told herself. She would bide her time. Again, she must wait until Henry is off the breast before she can act. Oh she wouldn’t waste her time with poison. She would steal into Vermilion Manor and catch Olivia alone and unawares. She would make it look ghastly and horrible, like a highwayman broke into the Manor. Thomas would be heartbroken and devastated…and he would run back to Lucille. And she would accept him with loving arms.  
Her resentment would die with Olivia. She would have Thomas. She would have two beautiful children. She would be a rich wife from a good name with a handsome, intelligent husband. She would have everything she deserved, everything she earned.

Thunderheads moved across the grey Cumberland sky. Olivia squinted up in the painful bright grey as the dark clouds crept closer. She watched the workmen tie down the last load of the day then hurried into the house.  
“Matilda! Matilda!”  
The young girl appeared at the banister. “Yes, Lady Sharpe?”  
“Take the boys to Vermilion in the carriage. Thomas and I will follow when we’ve checked the house.”  
“Yes, miss.” She turned away then back. “Oh! Should I send the carriage back when we get there?”  
“That would be splendid of you, love.” Their voices felt too loud in the quiet house. The sitting room was empty, as was the parlor and the scullery. The library was nearly moved. The only books that remained hadn’t been read in generations of Sharpe’s. The only furniture that remained was that of absolute necessity or what was being sold. Even Thomas’s workshop had been cleared out.  
Matilda hustled down the stairs with Michael and Henry. “Hurry, bunny, before the storm catches you.” Olivia kissed the young girl’s cheek before kissing the soft warm hair of her baby. She bent to kiss Michael to find him crying. “Mimi, what’s wrong? You mustn’t be frightened of the storm, poppet.”  
He shook his head. “Anloo wants a hurt you, mumma. She tells the red lady bad things. The red lady says you and papa are staying with her when we leave.”  
Olivia crouched and pulled up her skirt as she did so. “Listen to me, Michael. Papa and I are coming with you and Henry and Mattie. We’re trying to get Aunt Lu to come with us. She hasn’t packed a thing. Papa is up there talking to her now.”  
He shook his head. “Nu-uh, I no want Anloo to come. She wants to hurt you, mumma. She stay here. With the red lady.”  
Olivia sighed. “Mimi, listen to me, you go with Mattie and you be no trouble. Papa and I will be along shortly. If you get scared of the storm, you sing Mattie your pretty song, yeah?”  
“Yes, mummy.”  
Olivia kissed his forehead and held him tightly before handing him off to Matilda. She saw the first drops of rain begin to fall outside as they left. The door shut behind them. She lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs. “Thomas! Lucille! We need to hurry! There’s a storm moving in.”  
Thomas met her at the lift, blood running from a cut on his cheek. “Livi, run.” She saw the smaller blotches of blood on his shirt. He grabbed her by the arms and turned her around, hurrying her into the lift. Shock and panic froze her but Thomas, despite his wounds, hustled her into the cage.  
“Olivia!” Lucille swept up the hall like one of the red specters from her nightmares, bloody knife in hand. “Thomas!”  
“Lucille, my cherry-" She turned to Thomas, terrified. "Thomas, what's happened? What’s wrong?” How could things have gone so badly? Thomas breathed heavily, his eyes shining with tears, fear and pain.  
“We’re not going anywhere. We’re all staying here!”  
“Lucille, you must stop this.” Thomas stepped between the women he loved. He grunted in surprise as his sister drove the knife into his torso. They stared at each other, both in shock at her actions. She pulled the blade out and he slumped to his left side. Lucille slammed the gate then the lever to take them to the lower level. The mechanism popped and showered sparks that became embers. Embers turned to flames with the rotted surroundings and fed on the fetid wood and tapestries. The lift lurched, dropping them to the third floor.  
Olivia screamed and latched on to Thomas’s back. Lucille fell against the lever, the knife clattering to the bottom of the cage and falling down the narrow shaft. With a surge of adrenaline, Thomas shoved the gate open and pushed Olivia out. The lift lurched and showered the third floor with more sparks.  
“Thomas!”  
“Lucille, take my hand!” She reached for him, but the lift lurched a third time. It proved too much for the pulleys and they gave. It happened in the blink of an eye. Thomas was standing then he lay sprawled on the floor, screaming bloody murder at the hand wedged between the door and the floor. Lucille froze. Every instinct in her said to protect Thomas, but she couldn't get out of the cage.  
Olivia grabbed Thomas’s shoulders. He felt the bones of his hand snap under the weight. A moment of terror gripped him at the thought of the lift sheering his fingers off. He gritted his teeth and he and his wife pulled, scraping skin down to the bone. He howled in pain. The weight of the lift became too much for the obstruction and took the end of his middle and ring fingers. Lucille screamed in its rapid descent. The fire spread around them.  
“Thomas, we have to go!”  
“But, Lucille!”  
“We’ll send someone down for her. We have to get out. Now.” She ripped the skirt of her dress, wrapping the cloth around his bleeding, destroyed hand. He’d be lucky if he didn’t lose it, let alone be able to build with it again. “We have to go, love.” The fire spread quickly through the attic and third floor as Thomas and Olivia hurried down the stairs and out into the darkening sky.  
Thomas had a fleeting hope the storm would keep the fire at bay. But the state of disrepair of Allerdale Hall gave the flames ample fuel, even against the rain. Some of the workmen and townsfolk who lived close by saw the flames and headed in their direction.

Lucille squeezed out of the gap in the mangled door. Her foot hung at a wrong angle on her leg as she pulled her body down the riser. A gash had opened on her jaw from the fall. She reached down to a pain in her side to find a piece of metal through and through her side above her hip.  
“Thomas!” She dug her nails into the floor as she pulled herself away from the lift. Blood and clay became indistinguishable from each other.  
“Now, you will pay for your sins, child.”  
She looked up into the looming faces of the lives she’d taken. They wavered from transparent memories of their living faces to crimson and icor visages of death. Fear gripped her, but she still reached for her child on instinct, so very close to her. The foundation gave a loud pop and a groan. Scarlet clay began to seep in like water loosed from a damn. Lucille whimpered, her words becoming unintelligible as she tried to crawl along the floor and through the viscous red mud. “Thomas!”  
A heavy, old support beam broke loose from under the house and fell, landing on Lucille’s head with a sickening crunch. If the blow didn’t kill her, drowning face down in the clay would.

Thomas and Olivia watched in horror as the house trembled, consumed by the fire from above and by clay from below. He ran for the door, shouting for his sister, but Olivia clawed at him and resorted to slapping him soundly.  
“You can’t go in there, Thomas!”  
“Lucille could be alive!” Thomas faced the sinking inferno that had once been his home, the only thing he’d ever had for as long as he could remember.  
Olivia clenched her fists, trembling with too many emotions to give voice. “I don’t care!” Thomas pulled up short and whirled around.  
“What?”  
“Look at you.” She closed the distance between them, tenderly touching his shallow stab wounds. “She nearly killed you. She could have. She WOULD have. And me. You can’t go there. Just leave her, Thomas.”  
“I can’t.”  
“You can!” She grabbed his arms and shook him. “You can’t leave me! I love you!”  
Thomas looked to the house. The front entrance had nearly gone in the clay. Would he even be able to get into the lower level now? His mother’s words echoed in his heart and in his head. He remembered the words he’d spoke on steamer after they made love under the stars.  
Townsfolk and workmen began to arrive. Thomas looked away from his ancestral home and wrapped his arms around his wife and held her to his chest.  
“Is everyone alright, sir?”  
Thomas shuddered with sobs. “My sister is inside.”  
The Hall gave a monstrous groan before the upper floors began to crumble in on themselves. The small crowd gave a gasping shout and everyone scrambled back, running for the low wall that bordered the homestead.  
Thomas couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw his mother, his late wives and his sister in the cloud of dust, debris and smoke that plumed up before the rich red clay squelched the flames, leaving only jagged burnt timbers jutting out of the ground where the expansive mansion had once stood.  
Thomas swallowed and looked down at Olivia. “You saved me again, my darling.”  
“Oh Thomas.” They kissed each other, crying in grief and loss.  
He cupped her face. “I love you, Olivia.” He’d given up the only home he’d ever known, the only love he’d ever known before her, his guilt, his shame, his hand and possibly his future as an inventor, and his sister. He’d chosen Olivia and their sons. He’d chosen hope and love, life and joy. Leaving all the rest sunken in the clay of Crimson Peak, Thomas and his wife turned their backs on the bloody crags that remained and headed for Vermilion Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this ending will not please everyone. But intentions and characters change as you begin to write. I had intended to have a polyamorous threesome with Olivia, Thomas and Lucille. But as the story showed itself to me, Lucille's madness out-weighed her love of Thomas much like in the movie, her rage took over with his admission that he loved someone more than her.
> 
> This part of the story is done but Thomas and Olivia have more to tell and will return in Vermilion Manor.


End file.
